Coyote was running

Coyote was running
under a Comanche moon
over the drifting sand
of a Texas coastal dune.

Small horses charged
into a settlement,
killing and stealing
and off they went.

Rifles were firing;
Indians disappeared,
but no one was chasing
since scalping they feared.

Northwest of Austin
into expansive plains,
riding their mustangs
with Buffalo reins.

Arrows and lances,
horsemanship skills,
whooping and charging
over Red River hills.

White man was coming
with Blue coats and schemes
into this frontier
rolled American dreams.

Flooding the prairie
were cabins and farms,
destroying the tipis and
medicine man's charms.

Reservation living
but barely alive,
beaten into submission
by the Colt .45.