There must be a way
to retain the nobility of trees
and the surefootedness of rocks
If we could sing always from here, canyon:
From here where the gold makes up to the green for staying,
Perhaps we could say what we must
Tell them of the gold in the leaves
and the leaving that summons
the compounding of everything shaped or shaping.
Sing of the consummate gift of being used.
Go with sureness of wondering
and the keenness of being in touch.
Take on the buoyance of birds
Take root in the crevices of the world.
Hold to the rocks. Speak of reverence for being
And be in favor of trees
~excerpts from "Speak of Reverence for Being" by Emma Lou Thayne