I want to go high and find those places
Where the streams first rush from the ground
And see the pure water gush from the ancient earth
Into the light of day.
Man does not mark such places
But they can be found, finally
By following river, creek, branch and rill
Up valley, bend and hollow
To the end. Do not surrender to weariness
At the end there is the beginning
There is moss and evergreen and noonday shade.
Who owns this land? There are no fences here.
Rest, breathe, behold.