Mound Builders and Mastadon Walkers

I live amongst the mound builders.
They labor to carry the stone.
They pile, and they pile, and they pile them,
One on top of the other.
I walk the trails of their progress,
But their same trials don't burden me.

And then I reach the mount
Of the ancient ones.
Covered by grass,
It's chiseled edges were
Rounded by time and rain and the henbit,
Til no one recognizes the work—
Not even the mound builder today.

But on this day,

I walked barefoot in the creek

By the tracks of the mastodon,

And maybe someday,

The post-post-modern creek walkers will see

My footprint fossilized right along with his.

-jenn long