before

long before, in a time that seems distant, forgotten, mystical almost, this land sang out with an eerily untouched aura. she knew her worth: each tree, rock, ant, deer, bat and pine needle. in tune with the cyclical, soothing, constant, timeless, holy rhythms of the wild places. 

she was always reminded of her goodness. the humans that frequented her mighty mountains and hidden creeks floated across the lands, sharing with their Mother much praise and thanks. in return, she gave freely–gifts of honey and berries and fish. the humans loved her, and she them. and her beauty and poetry and value remained whole and true and magnificent.