Amid the fall of stars and flight of fireflies,
I look upon the night in wonderment
still certain of the burning sun beneath
the bend of what will be tomorrow.
But what is there more than what is now,
flitting by in sparks of dots and dashes--
this code of lightning bugs and dying embers
teaching me things I have never understood?

Should there be a second sphere
made of mountain, marsh and prairie,
of wind, rock and ether where greed
can leave the traffic of its history--
may it remain forever, untouched,
within the essence of its own decency.