this peaceful rippling that sings along

to the dawning of a new day's song

passing over rocks standing at attention

and no,  none of this is a man's invention

roots of trees bent to touch the ground

inside small animals listen for a sound

of the high-off hawk's early morning calls

his dark eyes upon the lands he trawls

these rocky banks stand vigil long

guards of the earth to which they belong

centering with the river as it steady flows

its distant echo soothing our night's repose

tall trees look on from their crooked rows

leaning forward and lined with crows

reaching towards blue cotton skies

honoring what foolish man denies

and mountaintops are so sure of divinity's truth

their own mass and strength all they need as proof

that it is they that will be here long after man is not

and even our small footprints long forgot