Across the surface blue
I see a farther shore,
And across the trek of time
I see far more.
My eye, it falls upon
An age of Iowa's past,
Another time, anon,
When ice is still amassed.
I see the earth it carries
And the rocks it shoves along;
I see the land it buries,
The moving ice so strong...
And then...
I see it move no more,
This ice of time before;
It's when
The days are warmer felt
And the ice begins to melt...
I see running water cold,
A whitish surface wet,
And boulders strewn of old,
—And sheets of water set.
I see a current travelling
And washing rock along;
Then a slowing, and a gravelling,
A great and rocky throng
—In time to come a gravel pit,
And gathered there, stones for
it
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I watch the ice diminish
And surrender its domain;
I see it trickle and finish
Upon a changed terrain.
I see the hills around,
And valleys to partake,
And bound to lower ground,
I see a glacial lake!
In time, by lake is built,
A town that climbs a hill;
And around I see a quilt,
The fields that farmers till.
And beneath the arching sky,
The restless waters lap,
As clouds of fleece drift by
And wings of wildfowl flap...
O look upon the lake
And see it stirring there:
Its water blue, awake...
Then lift thine eyes to where
The color the sky is of...
The blue's from up above!
O see the geological
But thank the Theological!
For what the glacier brought
Is what the Creator wrought...
―John Riedell |