You are so old.
Sing to me
Let echoing winds weave your story.
I am listening.
Do you remember the first time we met?
You were surely quite different then.
I think you had a home here
Yes, I think your home was here.
Here. Over here.
Great fire wiped you all out, that time.
My walls are still scarred.
Do you remember?
Or maybe you were an Agrarian princess,
With rich crops fed by my Virgin river.
I can see you walking these trails
To my emerald pools.
That was a happy time for us.
You, your people,
You were happy then.
Or, perhaps you hunted mammoth.
I have seen many herds
With thunderous hooves
Pass through my walls.
Before your kind,
was a long, long time,
But to me, just a blink.
There is always some kind of peace here.
I am called the place of life and hope.
These gifts I bestow on you.
And all who grace this place.
That is my story.
Thanks to Kathryn Leavitt for today’s Photograph