Clouds On The Horizon Poem by Pamela Ann Frances Crane

The clouds on the horizon
Are the spirits of the Bison
And they bellow in the thunder
With a fury at the plunder
Of the masters of the plains.
(Oh the pitiful remains!)

The clouds on the horizon
Are the spirits of the Bison.
In the glory of the lightning
Is the beautiful and frightening
Accusation of their eyes.
(Oh the sorrow of the skies!)

The clouds on the horizon
Are the spirits of the Bison;
They are crowding, they are coming,
And the Warriors are drumming
And the people of the gun
Haven’t anywhere to run.

From horizon to horizon
Sweeps the triumph of the Bison,
He has put his mighty shoulder
To the cataract and boulder;
Men will answer for their greed
In the heavenly stampede.

The clouds on the horizon
Are the spirits of the Bison.
They will spare all those who love them,
Passing harmlessly above them -
But the Cities of the Plain
Have to learn it all again.

Wail for sons and weep for daughters
Taken by the scouring waters;
Rage at industry and spire
Lost to earthquake, wind and fire.
Ah, the spirits of the Bison
Are the clouds on your horizon...