Cold Winter Months,
White snowflakes falling from the deep blue sky,

Cocoom cooking at the wood stove,
Slicing red bloody meat,

Enough meat to keep winter bellies full,
Stored in the outside shed, protected and frozen,

Mushoom cleaning his guns and tools in the storage room,
preparing for his next hunting trip up north,

Indian children playing cards on the bare floor,
Laughing hysterically and rolling about,

Supper Time! Mit - Chi - Su!

Wild wind beating at the plastic covered windows,
A breeze crepping in

Cocoom brings the black meat,
Moose meat,

Mushoom sits, with a grumbling stomach,
Rubbing his brown strong hands together, anxiously,

Children rush to the small wooden table,
Stuffing their little brown faces with meat an potatoes,

Black meat,

Clean and fresh from the northern bush,
Mushoom hunting with respect,
Cocoom giving thanks to the animal's spirit,

Black meat,

Cocoom would softly say, "Supper Time! Mit - chi-Su!"
Everyone would hear Cocoom's voice because they listened.

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