Within the dim sweat lodge squatted four great chiefs and a silent brooding entity.

When Sam could no longer bear their accusatory glares, his eyes dropped, noting his smart cavalry leggings before closing.

A screeching bald eagle shattered the dream.

Dropping the orange root, he drove homewards a wiser man.

A Derryman, Perry McDaid has had poems, stories, reviews, and articles published in diverse and international publications. He is a prizewinning poet and short story writer with anthologies both in paperback and online. Eschewing demands for one “voice”, and spanning genres, he writes from many perspectives on subjects from the comic to the profound. He lives with his family beneath the brows of the Donegal Hills.