The wind blowing at my back,
Swishing by my ear,
All across the land I see,
Weathered stones a like to where I sit,
Throughout the valley rivers flow,
Meandering along this mountain plain,
Waiting for the moisture-driven rain.
Trees which dot the valleys and plains stand tall and green,
Brown patches standing alongside are what this grand land exemplifies.
Animals upon this ridge I sit,
Never show themselves for fear of us.
The puffy clouds above my head,
Shout out "Rain!" but are dry instead.
Industrial and man-made aren't terms here,
But are simply whispers upon the wind.
Mountain-tops white with snow,
Lease the horizon for now.
Someday, one day, will they crumble?
I wait to see and to hear a giant rumble.
Etched into the sky their beauty is present, majestic, grand and Heaven-sent.
My compass around my neck,
I orient myself to some trees half-wrecked,
Mindful of all that has happened once,
In my throat I feel my lunch.
Volcanoes, glaciers, and rhyolite thru,
The impossibility stuns me,
But the land's story stands true.
The wind insistently blowing still,
I close my eyes and lay real still.
I picture myself back in time,
Through the ages of geologic rhyme,
The course this land has taken for me,
Is simply amazing and a must-see.
I ponder what will happen next,
Ol' Yellowstone blowin' or an Ice Age flowin' on this rock.
My companions, I hope, wonder this too,
While we set down history upon our feet,
And stumble only on unwieldy rock.
Most in this field might dismiss God,
But I see Him here and everywhere,
His hands on it all.
Swishing by my ear,
All across the land I see,
Weathered stones a like to where I sit,
Throughout the valley rivers flow,
Meandering along this mountain plain,
Waiting for the moisture-driven rain.
Trees which dot the valleys and plains stand tall and green,
Brown patches standing alongside are what this grand land exemplifies.
Animals upon this ridge I sit,
Never show themselves for fear of us.
The puffy clouds above my head,
Shout out "Rain!" but are dry instead.
Industrial and man-made aren't terms here,
But are simply whispers upon the wind.
Mountain-tops white with snow,
Lease the horizon for now.
Someday, one day, will they crumble?
I wait to see and to hear a giant rumble.
Etched into the sky their beauty is present, majestic, grand and Heaven-sent.
My compass around my neck,
I orient myself to some trees half-wrecked,
Mindful of all that has happened once,
In my throat I feel my lunch.
Volcanoes, glaciers, and rhyolite thru,
The impossibility stuns me,
But the land's story stands true.
The wind insistently blowing still,
I close my eyes and lay real still.
I picture myself back in time,
Through the ages of geologic rhyme,
The course this land has taken for me,
Is simply amazing and a must-see.
I ponder what will happen next,
Ol' Yellowstone blowin' or an Ice Age flowin' on this rock.
My companions, I hope, wonder this too,
While we set down history upon our feet,
And stumble only on unwieldy rock.
Most in this field might dismiss God,
But I see Him here and everywhere,
His hands on it all.
