This one is called "New World" and it is a fairly recent poem.
One.
First man behold, the Earth glitters with leaves,
the sky glistens with rain.
Pollen is born on winds that low and lean upon mountains.
Cedars blackened the slopes and pines.
Two.
At dawn, eagle's high and hover above the plane,
where light gathers in pools.
Grasses shimmer and shine, shadows withdraw and lie away
like smoke.
Three.
At noon, turtles enter slowly into the warm, dark loam,
bees hold the swarm, meadows recede
through plains of heat and pure distance.
Four.
At dusk, the gray foxes stiffen in cold.
Black birds are fixed in the branches.
Rivers follow the moon, the long white track of the full moon.