Amber eyes gaze down from wind swept cliff face.Over a valley and wood known well, every trail, well worn every tree and watering hole.He gazes out watching over His domain.His black fur whips in the wind as He listens and watches over.He is Wolf, the nite is His and He relishing in the freedom that is His by rite.He raises His shaggy black head and lets out a long and eery song into the nite, His song.Letting all know He rules here, the Land of the Wolf.

Dark of nite

As the nite awakens and the moon shines in the nite.The smells and sounds of the nite come alive.The rich smell of the earth after rain,the green of the leaves and pine.Ahhhh the nite smells clean after shakinf off the sleep of day.Amber eyes burn into the nite.Trail feels good on paws adept to the feel of everything under foot.The snap of twig and the slap of leaf as He trots the trails worn and known well.A quick stop for a sipat the fast clear running creek, ears keen to any sound.Bounding up the hill He gazes out over hill and vall that He has known all His life.Gazing up at the beautiful moon, He lifts His massive black head and howls long and eerily into the nite.Letting all know He rules here, He rules the nite.

New moonshines down its eery glow as the land turns green and lush.His amber eyes glow within the nite as he shakes off the sleep of day.Ears perk to each new sound as His nose sniffs the beautiful nite air.He trots out upon His clifftop looking out over the valley He knows well and calls home.He raises His massive black head and a long eery howl splits the nite.Calling out for all to hear, He is master here, He rules the nite.Let the hunt begin this nite.

My Passion, it is in what I make, the smell and feel of leather is my favorite.I create with my hands beautiful works of the old ways to keep traditional ways alive.I see so much out there that is fake and poorly made in the stores.People need to remember the old ways, back when everything we had came from our two hands.It isnt just a passion it is a love to make the leather work I create.The moccasins and bags I hand make and cleanse within the sacred fire and smoke are special in my heart and made with crafting I learnt as a young man.Hand creating gives you so much when you see the finished product that you have created.It is so much more than just buying something at a store, all that is is instant gratitude and that goes away soon enuff.The old ways are the best and should never be forgotten.