Every language is a song, every dialect
a dialogue. Sounds without letters
conveyed love for millennia. **** nothing,
for all are our brothers and sisters. Wander
into woods, pick berries and seeds.
Say a prayer. Splash in a cool creek.
Make no path as you walk across an
open field. Hills become higher. Soon
they are mountains. Know snow. Find
your way to the ocean. Beaches tell you
you're there. Waves keep greeting you.
Sunrays  and warm breezes blow you
dry as you lie naked in the sand. Our
land is all of these. Say another prayer
and give thanks.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS