Barren and worn down do the trails still snake
Wind through the woods topping old Hard’ack hill
Where once seashores stood unearthed clamshells break
Reborn from the frost down a hillside spill

Give me an hour or give me a whole day
Sit on a rock left from past glacial till
Sunup to sundown many shadows play
High above heard cry is a hawk’s high shrill

A view from ledges of valley below
Rocky island surrounded by dry land
A boyhood dream with a desire to know
Leads back to this place again and again

A place where ancient Native spirits roam
Where nature abounds, this place I call home