Ages ago, on a dark starry night,
Between the forest and the Firehole’s banks
(Perhaps the Madison’s), a spark took flight,
A thought, a plan, for which we should give thanks
National Parks, behold their provenance:
Below dark outcroppings, beside a stream
(Rock eyes, creek mouth; a face), camp occupants
Envisioned preservation. Such a dream!
Campfire to Congress, that’s a funny route.
Believe it! Or, doubt. Either way, free choice,
Like when (not if) we hear the hills cry out.
Two responses: Keep silent. Raise our voice.
The call echoes past 1870:
Be a good steward. Leave a legacy.
~ Camp Host Chad