Elk move like shadows
through the timber at dawn.
Hawks carve circles
in the wide, unbroken sky.

Grizzlies leave silence
where they’ve passed,
and wolves stitch hunger
into the snow.

Antelope spark across prairie grass,
mountain goats etch their names
into stone cliffs.

Ravens argue with wind,
cougars keep their secrets,
trout vanish before
you can speak their name.

This land is not owned—
it is listened to.
Every creature a line,
every breath a verse,
in the long poem
of Montana.