I found god in the Colorado Rockies
Stretching his fingers and scraping them upon the peaks,
And down their declines to a deep river valley
Where his wistful tears flow so smoothly
‘Till they are damned up by ravenous imps,
The never-sated virulent epicures,
And exploited in progress’s name.
His tears turn to pensive in the ever-present dirge
That is the clapping of the skies and roaring of their rain,
And the rivers rush fast to break their wrongful incarceration.
