GRANITE LANDMARKS

When I was new to these hills,
great rocks rose to find my way
along a native track—coyote,

deer and that of cattle—
dirt worn soft by pad and hoof.
I gave each a name

to place me on this ground
when I was lost, or turned
around on gray fog days.

Weather-sculpted, laced
with lichen color, some
take the shape of humans

that haven’t changed, frozen
in time before men came
to live among them—

mark the stories of the hunt
and gather of the untamed.
These rocks remember

without words, a warm
language recorded
for the species that survive us.