And my first real one is my most dramatic one.
From here on, it's downhill so far as drama's concerned.
I get to wave my hand and this one.
This is how dramatic it is.
This is called Witness Witness.
This is the hand I dipped in the Missouri above Council Bluffs
and found the springs.
All through the days of my life, I escort this hand, where would
the Missouri meet a kind of friend.
On top of Fort rock in the sun, I
spread these fingers to hold the world in the wind.
Along that cliff, and that old cave, where men used to live,
I grabbed in the dirt for those cool springs again.
Summits in the Rockies received this diplomat.
Brush that concealed the lost children
yielded them to this hand.
Even on the last morning, when we all tremble and lose,
I will reach carefully, eagerly through that rain at the end,
toward whatever is there with this loyal hand.