|
Nanook's River Poetry | |
| The Tales are There |
The tales are there
on heath and hill,
up granite stair,
down
alder rill.
You won't find them
in a book,
but
round a fire
in forest nook.
The paths converge
mother and child,
on grassy verge,
in meadow wild.
Come sit by my campfire,
rest your weary bones.
Tell us all a
tale
in your velvet tones.
Reach out and touch a rock
Machias Lakes, Maine
|
If I could go with you |
Hear Nanook recite this poem.
