The mountains have long stood and guarded the plains, while a thousand summer evenings have sighed and slept. They have seen children created and homesteads blown away by western winds that through the valleys have swept. They judge not but they keep their faces to the light and in the evening they tenderly cradle the stars. Young cattle grow restless in the heat of the night and flushed couples tumble out of crowded bars. I wonder about the secrets of yours that they hold as you lay down amid the debris of another day’s labour.