Thunder On The Prairie
Once the dry prairie was filled with the thunder--
The ground-quaking, earthshaking hooves running hard;
Now, though, the wild has been torn all asunder,
The tall grass and dark earth with wicked fires scarred.
And what of the thunder that criss-crossed the plain?
It's been whittled down slow by hunter and gun,
Its dark eyes too mute to express all its pain--
Shot down and butchered till the plains with blood run.
The thunder died down but did not lose its voice;
It bided its time till the butchers moved on;
And only now can all the thunder rejoice,
As with its new young it will face a new dawn.