Nothing can tarnish the mountains of copper canyon

Except, perhaps, their memory if we abandon

The beauty of this bronze mineral so malleable

Flexed to the point we were no long able

Thin stacks of this stamped into the pennies of our empire

Spent in microcosms of what we think we desire

Six rivers forging forms along side and incidental

There in the wilds of  Sierra Madre Occidental

In the name of gold and silver, blood was spilled

As if it was something Christian and God willed

Long distance running out across desert miles

Where the flora and fauna lazily sprawl in smiles

I think inside my head that all this eco-friendly

Might just become the end of you and me…