Classic Poem

Prairie goes to the mountain,
Mountain goes to the sky.
The sky sweeps across to the distant hills
And here, in the middle,
Am I.

Hills crowd down to the river,
River runs by the tree.
Tree throws its shadow on sunburnt grass
And here, in the shadow,
Is me.

Shadows creep up the mountain,
Mountain goes black on the sky,
The sky bursts out with a million stars
And here, by the campfire,