We witness her beauty with eyes that won’t see

What was and what is, and what ought to be


Nature our teacher, from the roots to the tree

Plundered for profit, what she gives us for free


But on the horizon with eyes that must see

What was and what is, and what ought to be



Gentle is the morning light

In the garden of earthly guise

Awakes the dawn from weary night

And greets the day through nature’s eyes







We are one among many, not one above all

No masters of all things audacious or small


Yet we flatter ourselves, we of clever design

So processed and packaged, polished and primed


But under the trees lies the roots of true worth

Steeped in her wisdom, bound deep to the earth



Where the river flows through silent veils

In the sheltered forest her spirits rise


On hidden waters and forgotten trails

Beneath the shade of sacred skies


In the silence we heed her hails

For ancient wisdom in peaceful guise