“Ah, to be alive, on a mid-September morn, fording a stream, barefoot, pants rolled up, holding boots, pack on, sunshine, ice in the shallows, northern rockies.

Rustle and shimmer of icy creek waters, stones turn underfoot, small and hard on toes, cold nose dripping, singing inside, creek music, heart music, smell of sun on gravel.

I pledge allegiance.

I pledge allegiance to the soil, of Turtle Island, one ecosystem, in diversity, under the sun