little stream, Camp Branch, flowing
through the ever-renewing
woods on the steep slopes,
by what name did the Shawnee
call you? We live briefly in time
longer than we will live to know
When we who know you by name
are gone, what will they call you?
When our nation has fallen as all
things fall, when the Constitution
is only another paper god, prayed to
and lied to by only another
autocrat, what will they call you?
When our kind has gone
as all things go, and you remain,
your tumbles catching and returning
light to the air as beautifully
as before, will only the angels
name you and praise you then?
Wendell Berry
from Leavings.
