Click below to listen to the narration:
from fundy’s breath where the salt winds climb...a stone rolls west with the pull of time...it hums of boats and the hands that mend...of harbours that hold what storms can’t bend...from the carolinian woods it comes...where the lowland fires beat ancient drums...it sings of burns that heal the land...a careful flame in a careful hand...from okanagan hills of gold...where dancers teach what fires once told...it carries steps that guard the trees...a ballet shaped by wind and breeze...across the plains where the long grass leans...a hall is raised by shared daydreams...it hums of neighbours...roof beams high...a prairie choir beneath big sky...from tundra paths where the cold stars burn...and burrowing owls each spring return...it sings of wings that trust the night...a quiet vow to keep things right...from cities where cree syllabics glow...and teachers plant what children grow...it hums of words that heal the past...a river of sound meant to last...from screens that shine like northern flame...where storytellers reclaim their name...it carries news the old way still...a circle of voices on a virtual hill...from chambers where new plans unfold...for homes rebuilt against the cold...it hums of doors that open wide...a promise stacked on every side...at their rock garden home where the map lines meet...the stones arrive with a steady beat...the animals circle...the winds gather from...and the aggregate begins its low...warm hum...