The mountains rise high in their granite repose, Guardians of secrets that nobody knows. With each shifting season, they stand, proud and grand, In the dance of the ages, nature’s soft hand.
The valleys below, rich in green, intertwined, Invoke the spirit of life, unconfined. Through rivers and canyons, the wild calls her name, Where nature’s wild heart beats unyieldingly the same.
- Willa Cather