Green Corn

As we move into the square
we all begin to prepare.
The leader begins his sacred sons,
we will dance all night long.
The Fire burns way up high
as it reaches for the sky.
The sound of the rattle is very clear,
and we know the old ones they are here.
They raise their poles into the air,
so the feathers don't touch their hair.
Our voices soar into the sky
to the places where Eagles fly.
The Fire seems to keep the pace,
with our dancing in our sacred place.
And far away in the eastern sky,
Grandmother Sun begins to rise.
We raise our hands way up high,
to greet the morning sky.
And so today as long ago,
our ancient songs will still flow.
As we dance, we are proud,
and we sing, our songs out loud.
If we keep, the Fire alive,
and sing and dance, we will survive!
                                                                            Al C.