Sequoia's winters were sixteen   Silent tongue spirit clean   He walked at his father's side   Across the smoking battle ground   Where red and white men lay all around   So many here had died      The wind had scattered around   Snow white leaves upon the ground   Not leaves like leaves from trees   Sequoia said, "What can this be?"   "What's the strange thing here I see?"   "From where come leaves like these?"      Sequoia turned to his father's eyes   And he said, "Father you're wise   From where come such snow white leaves   With such strange marks upon these squares   Not even the wise owl could put them there   So strange these snow white leaves"      His father shielding his concern   Resenting the knowledge Sequoia yearned   Crumbled the snow white leaves   He said, "When I explain then it's done   These are talking leaves, my son   The white men's talking leaves"      The white man takes a berry of black and red   And an eagle's feather from the eagle's bed   And he makes bird track marks   And the marks on the leaves they say   Carry messages to his brother far away   And his brother knows what's in his heart      They see these marks and they understand   The truth in the heart of the far off man   The enemies can't hear them   Said Sequoia's father, "Son   They weave bad medicine on these talking leaves   Leave such things to them"      Then Sequoia walking lightly   Followed his father quietly   But so amazed was he   If the white man talks on leaves   Why not the Cherokee?      Vanished from his father's face   Sequoia went from place to place   But he could not forget   Year after year he worked on and on   Till finally he cut into stone   The Cherokee alphabet      Sequoia's hair by now was white   His eyes began to lose their light   But he taught all who would believe   That the Indian's thoughts could be written down   Just as the white men's there on the ground   And he left us these talking leaves