Timeless voices call again, from plains and prairies, bog and fen.
Ageless whispers on the wind, ending now where they begin.
Sounding on the wondering ears, of those who listen – those who hear.
The ones who feel the earths great truth, the wisdom of our graceful youth.
The longing cries of gulls and crows, lost we were, within their throes.
Waves releasing on the beach, seeking there, what she released,
from her great sieve, her wondrous oceans, magic spells within the motions,
of the tides perpetual grind, treasures there we’d always find.
Running careless through her sands, are skin becoming dark and tanned.
Swimming in the bright green waters, fathers sons and mothers daughters.
In our youth, we felt her grace, and as we age, we feel a trace,
of all the beauty that she is, her loving touch and tender bliss.
Returning now, to youth we lost, does not entail any cost.
The wonder that we felt so strong, her blissful dance and ever song,
lives on – though we may heed it not – if we so choose, it will be lost,
replaced by things we wanted more, while youth still dances on her shore.