In this tree

I can see through the eyes

of a squirrel:

Is it safe?

Is there food?

I am hithlo



         tseek’i nástánii


I seek food

running through the claws

of a cat;

I seek shelter

hidden in the arms of a branch;

I sing the song of my people

in harmony with my spirit.

I am ankwacas



The small one who chatters,

scampers and stands still

Watching you.

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