The Giver

Here she sits

For murals, photographs and lost thoughts

Never losing her ethereal scene

And though the seasons may change

Here she will remain

A witness to the ravages of man

Her mountains still reach for the sun

Even though she has shed her tears

with melted frost

Her trees still dance to the tune of wind

Although the sounds of gunfire have often left her paralyzed

Fields of fertile grass continue to shower the famished

When at times she is left bare to the bone and dry

And still she never ceases to gift

Such a giver that she is

The earth of my ancestors

Sitting here picturesque even now

For your murals, photographs, and lost thoughts