I saw a man dance, in the dark of night.
His feet kicking up dust to the unique sound of the clapping sticks.
His body molded in poise as he told his dream time story.
He is the custodian of this land.
The eclectic life and creative writings of a horse whisperer
I saw a man dance, in the dark of night.
His feet kicking up dust to the unique sound of the clapping sticks.
His body molded in poise as he told his dream time story.
He is the custodian of this land.
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