(And She Was) Rivers Dancing

She stands along the edge
Of an ancient canyon cliff,
And breathes the fresh air
that whirls by her.
Smell of red clay dust
and sun-baked rock
Mix with memories in her heart.

She is old now,
with tough cracked skin,
Finger stained with dirt.
She hears the drums of lives once lead
Her peoples of long ago.

Where rivers ran, now dry beds sit
To run again in other lands.
She has seen how things
have come and gone,
Customs long forgotten
But the drums beat loudly in her heart......

She knows the Earth still sings....

-----Original Poetry by Author Kat Johnson