My Brother Across the Ages

I know a man
I've seen just once
in a faded photograph.
His coal-black eyes
peer dark and wise
from the stern seat
of his boat on Tobique.

Though he's been dead for
a hundred years or more
His Maliseet gaze
meets mine and says
we share the lore
of the old river ways.

His boat is birch bark
stitched with cedar roots
glued with spruce pitch.
His stout pole of ash
awaits his deft touch
to guide his trusting sport
into the ancient wilderness.

I will look for him
down all the waters
down all my days.
I know one day
I will find him
and greet him
as my brother
across the ages.

 Nanook of the Nashwaak 
 Reach out and touch a rock 

What do You See in the Fire?

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