Dark Her Lodge Door
Charles O. Roos

With warrior braves, he rides to war.
“Farwell,” she waves, from her lodge door.
The war-clouds lift, many the slain.
On pony swift, he homes again.
The stars shine pale,…
Down forest trail, her warrior comes!
No answering hail, dark her lodge door.
Old women wail, she is no more!
Through the blue night, a shooting star.
An eagle flight, he rides afar.