Sitting on a sand bar watching the muddy water flow by, I look at the fishing cane growing on the opposite shore. I dig in the sand and find an arrow head, shiny as the day it was made. I look at the muddy bank and see smoke from a distant field. I close my eyes and I can hear the chants of the Cherokee. I look up the river and see a canoe coming down, the Creek in a hunting party are floating by. I sit on hallowed ground and hold the arrow head in my hand. I imagine where it has been and who made it. I can see the images clearly in my mind, just as if I were standing there in the hunting camp. A cold wind blows over me and I hear the water crash on some rocks. I return to the sand bar and feel a solemn peace as I watch the river flow by.