We was mountains.
We was teeth of the world.
We was jagged and sharp and cruel.
We was fearsome and smiled across the blue, blue sky.
We was biting clouds.
We was taller than birds.
Now we is elder to sand and pebbles and rocks and boulders. All stones is child to us.
We is broken, rotting, pink, granite gums.
We is scratched and ground and shattered by ice and roots and dynamite; washed and worn away by rain and wind.
We is terrible no more to chew the skies.
We is walked all over and mocked by birds.
We is swamps and bogs and lakes, remade and reshaped by beavers and men.
We is mountains no more.