Poem: The Valley of Tribeca

By: Mary Bone


I was in the Tribeca Valley
Where the buffalo used to roam.
The canyons echoed drum sounds
from a long time ago.
Corn was planted row upon row.
Tribes gathered from all around
To celebrate the food gathered from the ground.
Gourds still grow in the ravens below.
Remnants of pots made from clay can still be found.

Categories: Poetry

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