Mighty canyon, you're grand it's true
There is no other quite like you
You, whose awesome beauty takes
Half a state to wander through.
From hither to your river snakes
Whatever course she undertakes
So reddish brown her muddy hue
Freely flowing lake to lake.
Oh mighty canyon is it true
That little river sculptured you
From north to south, and half the west
Simply just from passing through?
And, only through her wet caress
Without a living thought expressed
By chance alone, and not by will
This majesty that you possess?
My canyon friend, the truth revealed
Your river there is just His quill
And He who paints, is painting still....
And He who paints, is painting still.
Timothy I. Brumley