Poetry
Grandest Canyon
Artful crevices carved in clay.
Limestone, shale eaten away.
Drippings of red
turned pink from sun.
Blues mellowed,
by sunbeams shadow.
River forceful, muddy brown,
winds a course yet untamed.
Here today from yesterday,
a million years will see her end.
Preserved by man, most feebly,
his will no match for hers.
Her mother is;
the winds that bore her.
she is the rain that clothes her,
she is the sun that gives her radiance.
Her mother has made her mountains
and carved her beauty,
She has no bounds by man.