In the land of Ansel Adams
Stand the trees so green and stately
And the streams as clear as crystal
Smooth the rocks as old as time.

All around the serene valley
Where God's creatures roam the meadows
Are the great majestic mountains
Sentinels to this land sublime.

Can't you hear the breezes whisper
of the people long forgotten
In their houses they called Tee Pees
Living peacefully on this land.

Hunting only what they needed
Fishing from the clear cold waters
Sharing all the many riches
Of this wilderness so grand.

And the eagles if you listen
Tell of winters when the snow fell
Covering the Indian tee pees
Standing near the river's shore.

How they sat around their fires
While the winds blew fierce around them
Telling all the black eyed children
Ancient tales of Indian lore.

Now the old ones have all vanished
And their stories have died with them
But the legacy they left us
Is a gift for all to share.

All the beauty of Yosemite
Tallest mountain-deepest valley
Waterfalls of misty splendor
Nature's wonder oh so rare.

--Geneva L., Adult