The weather sounded on the rocks.
Waters rippled over deep currents as
voices of land moved, grinding out the
textures of highs and lows.
A blue glass sky covered wide prairies.
Rains baptized mountains into valleys.
Clouds stepped long shadows over ravines
and gorges and then moved in
directions yet to be named.
Winds began, sending dust and dirt
and seeds within a family of vortices,
traveling a turbulent trail.
The start of growth breathed.
The sun yellowed the ground.
Time started in silence.
Roger Singer 