Stories in every stone

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Then came a silence, a hush that only solitude knows

The hazy sun, diving to the horizon all aglow

 

Peeked, all other sounds, tho faint, seems to explode

Hidden now, a trail, reverent americans once rode

 

Shadows grow, the bouquet of color dims and greys

Light diminished, familiarity rushes from this place

 

Exhaling breath that finds the exit difficult to behold

A piece not to be touched wishes for the days of old

 

Not to fear, atrocities, adventure, stories not passed on

What of this spot? Man and nature have tread upon

 

There are stories in every stone, in each ancient tree

Who, if any, were along this trail, witness to see?

 

Many running aloof, bestowed in them a respect

Content they were, their future they could not protect

 

Skies open in all directions, they have seen, seen all

The lands the same, mostly, many did rise and fall

 

Progress wandered along this way defined by the ages

Leaving the open, the expanse, in some sort of cages

 

Winds still blow, visions distorted, unreal still appear

Or maybe it’s a trick, played on all whom traverse here

 

Hark! The rustle along the edge draws all away

The breeze that blew then still rushes the same way

 

Truths hide in sight, protected by the wild, and time

Tarry longer, that age is gone, only remnants to find

 

Perhaps, as it should be, to save the stories for those,

The ones unspoiled, passed down by the ones that know 

 

Treading on ground, leaving this place, quivering alone

A sachem long gone could draw the past from a stone

 

So it remains, the places we see, only a trace to then

Lest we forget all, a time, we must remember had been