Under the Watchful Hawk: The Land’s Ever-Present Guardian

Freedom is found where the dirt road ends and the open sky begins.

High above the canyon wide,

A hawk circles with keen-eyed pride.

Its shadow sweeps, a silent mark,

Guarding the land, both proud and stark.

Beneath the sun, the prairie breathes,

As wildflowers dance in summers ease.

With leather reins and dusty boots,

The cowboy rides where freedom hoots.

Through canyon walls and rivers deep,

The secrets of the land it keeps.

A sentinel of sky and stone,

The hawk surveys, so pure, alone.

When twilight paints the world in gold,

And stories of the West unfold,

The hawk, a spirit fierce and bold,

Hides ancient wisdom within its fold.