Click below to listen to the narration:
upon a ridge where silence leans...a tower of stones stands tall and thin...each rock a tale from shifting scenes...each whisper carried on the wind...the deer steps soft...the crow looks down...the beaver hums a river tune...the blue jay flits in feathered crown...the squirrel waits beneath the moon...they gather round the fragile stack...where stories rise like curling smoke...of conquest...treaties...battles black...of hopes that trembled...broke...then woke...the base was laid by ancient hands...first nations carved the earth with care...their wisdom shaped these northern lands...still echoing through frozen air...the french arrived with maps and dreams...the british followed...flags unfurled...confederation stitched the seams...that bound a fractured...growing world...the fur trade flowed...the klondike gleamed...vimy’s stone was red with flame...the women marched...the sailors dreamed...of peace beyond the war’s acclaim...the maple leaf rose bold and bright...a symbol stitched in crimson thread...the constitution claimed the right...to speak with voice no longer led...now truth and reconciliation...lays its stone with trembling grace...a hope for healing...restoration...a mirror held to every face...but seasons shift...and danger grows...the ice may crack...the earth may shake...yet still the wind through history blows...and balanced stones refuse to break...