Our land

had almost healed

we could feel

its wildness rising

we could hear it sing

the ospreys and eagles returned

we ate venison

and made quivers

from deerskin

we fried brook trout

on stone-ringed campfires

and toasted

their flame-orange savagery

with cheap beer

we began to feel native

in a new way

our spirits healing

apace with the forest

we could feel

wildness rising

in our hearts and then

the price of oil

went up