Black walnut, green ash, and silver maple
stipple the ridge of the river. It cedes,
gradually, to the shore—no shoring up
the riparian zone with riprap, rock
armour, shot rock; no finger in the dike.

The sentinel trees dream of limestone caves:
silica, flint, silt, chert, clay, sand, calcite–
stone scored with more than human history.
The Burgess Shale shelters the Cambrian:
our fossil record, our more than human
fingerprints, thumbing aeons into dust.

Today, some tourist at the Grand Canyon
adjusts her sun-hat, squints into the distance,
uncomprehending, at the blinding map
of bright angel shale and redwall limestone.

Originally published in Dark Sky

magazine.