there is a place
with fields of northern wheat
needle-and-thread
& mixed-grass prairie
full of saskatoon berries
sage-smoke & yarrow
wild columbine & aster
where the trees grow crooked
by swift-flowing rivers
& grassy hills where buffalo used to jump
where grandpa & dad live
with skin like desert sunsets
& humour as dark as their morning coffee
nîkihk (my home)
a place
where many bridges connect the land
the land of the living skies