Birds never stop singing.
Fawns are always looking to learn from their mothers.
Chipmunks are ruffling leaves,
bluejays are gathering seeds,
pine needles are making a blanket over the earth
as the trees prepare for another rebirth.
Voices of fishermen bounce on top of the lake water
and travel all the way to shore.
No one is ever alone in a place as quiet as this.
Snails burrow into their shells,
woodpeckers carve a shell of their own.
Even the ants are not forgotten,
nor the months,
nor the worms
we cannot even see.
Man has “bought” this place
with the illusion of money and property taxes.
But this place is not, or was not ever, and never will be,
for just man.
A plot of land is not a place of ownership –
it is a place of nurturing.
Anything can be nurtured here,
with the presence of an eagle,
the cheer of a morning chickadee,
the stability of the lake,
and the love of the deer.
Ali Walks Around 