Click below to listen to the narration:
from eastward fog to western flame…the stones rolled in with whispered names…okanagan smoke on a trembling shore…niagara waters at every door…they hummed of skies that shift and sear…of towns that brace year after year…north winds carried the kootenay night…power lines flickered in failing light…yet lanterns rose where circuits fell…each household shaping its own spell…the stones kept time with a steady ring…resilience born from everything…in steinbach streets the parade ran long…pioneer drums in a prairie song…port stanley’s boats in a painted line…mermaids drifting through lake bright brine…the stones turned soft in the festival glow…reminding all how cultures grow…from conception bay’s scorched memory lane…came voices learning to name their pain…flin flon artists with soot stained hands…sketched wildfire ghosts across northern lands…the stones absorbed each healing trace…art becoming a meeting place…storms spun low over muskoka’s blue…boats overturned where the wild winds blew…sirens echoed through cottage air…families gathered in urgent prayer…the stones rolled slow with a somber beat…marking the rhythm of retreat…a couple walked the trans canada trail…eight long years through storm and hail…their footsteps stitched a nation’s seam…from mountain spine to atlantic gleam…the stones chimed soft as they passed by…carrying the length of canada’s sky…nova scotia’s halls with shorter waits…winnipegosis roads to distant gates…health stretched thin across rural miles…yet held together by patient smiles…the stones murmured of futures near…mobile care drawing ever clear…so gathered now in a balanced ring…the stones began their final sing…of climate’s weight and culture’s fire…of towns that rise and never tire…their chorus shaped a country’s plea…prepare…protect…and let us be…