So why do you weep, my Indian maid,
where the mountains rise from the sea.
Where the Eagle soars and the Salmon leaps
and the waves and the winds blow free?

I weep for a part of me that’s lost,
I weep for the wide Prairies.
I weep for the sky that is domed and blue
And the rippling Poplar leaves.

And I weep for the kiss of snow on my cheek
And the jewels of frost on an a tree
And the whispering wind in the fields of wheat
In a place where I long to be.

So take me back to the open plains
For that is my spirits plea.
Yes I belong where the sky is huge
And I long for the wide Prairie.

David Garlick, Victoria, July 1991