Hopi footprints led north
towards the back door of the continent
walking the rounds overland
in a swastika spiral migration
to reach the center

Following the sawtoothed mountain spines
I came across basins and bowls
salt lakes and sage brush flats dimpled with junipers
wind coming off distant ridges
and folks playing hide and seek amidst grass covered lodges

The rivers snaked east
then wound north and south
my hard working salmon brothers were goin up river to visit relatives
portaging past waterfalls and resting under ledges
I walked alongside, and chatted about the state of gravel

Wanted a better view, up on high
and so up past a wash of blazing stars I went
it was spring by now, bugs whistling tunes
tall green grass obscured all sights
wheat, rye, june, fescue, needle and good ol sacaton

Up on the rocky bluff
a family of Shoshone was just in from a hunt
we shared pine nuts and groundhog heart in a stone bowl
in that morning light, all I could do was dream of tracking sheep
meanwhile soaring in the sky was eagles on thermals