Spirit of New River
Treya
Summer Solstice
She shakes the briars
From her long crow-colored hair
Now sprinkled with the frost of many winters:
Treya
Young warriors slip away
With peace pipes and knives
She yearns to be young again
Treya
A drummer summons the tribal
Knee high braves
Running and hiding behind the trees
Maidens take turns
Beading and painting
Eagerly awaiting her favorite
Warriors return
Young mothers look at her
Treya
And sees her own future
Treya
“Spirit of New River”