The sunlight on the lily pond was brilliant;
green dew covered leaves sparkled,
rose coloured blossoms scented the air,
the water reflected incandescent light beams,
and Mary Tipenose walked by.

In the fields of yellow poppies
a cool autumn breeze whispered among,
flowers so beautiful the sun seemed to beam with joy watching them,
the insects that would run upon the stems in tiny columns of order,
and Mary Tipenose walked by.

Mother nature had shaken all the trees bare,
and the forest path lay strewn with coloured leaves,
and the carpets of moss crept with invisible speed finding their way,
among roots and rocks, the babbling brooks, and cluttered crevices,
and Mary Tipenose walked by.

There was a town at the foot of the valley.
These buildings looked bored where they lay in shade,
beneath cotton wool clouds scudding recklessly across a smoking sky,
pestilence ran on tiny clawed feet,
through shuffling zombie crowds.

Mary Tipenose came to that town,
and the fair lady walked among the dead,
and where she turned her gaze of goddess eyes,
her beauty would cause the buildings to crumble in shame,
and the people would be healed,
their vacant stares now clear and purposeful,
pestilence scurried on tiny clawed feet,
the light grew, and the shadows fled
till only darkness remained where the light did not flow
like liquid gold through the streets,
and Mary Tipenose walked by.

Thursday 19th September, 1996