Before the stones began to grow

High

In the hills of other crow-

Sung songs, there lived the sky

Mother

Dressed in snow.

Before the stars might

Glance

Out through the silver curtains

Of the night,

When the wings of geese

Encircled the earth in their rushing sound,

Before the moon took

Up her bright

Boat to sail

Her round

Over the black-waved sea,

Before even a holy

Tree

Became the temple where

Tolled a green bell,

Before the translucent veil

Of eternity

Could open

And close,

Before the cycling cities shook,

Then fell,

And rose,

And the magic dance

Of the wise one

Spinning, spun,

Before and ever after,

She lives there,

In her mountains

Clad in clouds of peace,

All gowned

In snow.

Written December 3, 2010

Photo: Sharon St Joan / Zion’s National Park