i hear the music of the early morning,
a forest waking with the summer sun
and the scent of hemlock and dew
that i recall from my childhood.
this sacred place,
marked by Time itself, and yet, timeless,
fills my spirit with the awe of ages past,
and native peoples in whose footsteps i now tread.
the face of the rock remembers them,
and as i reach out to touch it,
i am met with a glimpse into what the Earth has seen,
and how she mourns for simpler times,
when all heard the same music,
and danced together in the hot summer morning.