Alpine meadows flicker past beneath pinions of charcoal gray
Dwarf willows and krumholtz dot a vast and open landscape
What it must be to ride the eagle's wing from those dizzy heights
A spectacle like silver stars the heavens leave on at night
The cold becomes more tangible up where the air grows thin
Men were not meant to breathe this pure, after all, they're only men
This place is home to the wolf, the hawk and mountain lion
Dens and nests secluded below the ridge of scrubby pine
Yellow flowers, now in bloom, herald the coming spring
Tiny messengers of the sun burst with the joy of being
Whisper trickles echo from the crackling ice and snow
Adrift in streams like liquid dreams to the mighty Colorado
Bear cubs sniff the cave entrance where playful shadows leap
Tumbling over each other and mother who still lay fast asleep
But soon she will wake to motherhood; a wish within a dream
Feed and teach her tiny brood to fish from half-frozen streams
Worry and fear have no place here as they do so far below
Survival bends around swirling winds that stir the ice and snow
The pack howls, mother bear growls as she raises her weary head
Life returns to the sequined peaks; ressurected from the dead
