Little Hands
Winding down the dusty trail
From Cathedral Butte
Walking towards the canyon floor
Playing Anasasi flutes
Eagles flying overhead
Beneath the desert sky
Makes me think of how they lived
Many years gone by
I wander here from time to time
To give my head some space
Leave the noise and confusion
Vanish without a trace
Salt Creek runs through the grass
As you hum that canyon tune
Brush against the desert sage
Just like some sweet perfume
Eight hundred years ago
This canyon was their home
Eight hundred years ago
They walked through the sand
Eight hundred years ago
They painted these little hands
Yes this is the timeless place
That's seen them come and go
They packed it up way back when
And drifted on down the road
The earth, the sun, the moon and the stars
Meant so much back then
But the years go by and though you try
You can't bring them back again