Emerald Mound Poem by Kevin Scanlon

It rises as if to meet the sun god halfway in the sky
Embraced by ever faithful grass and worshipful trees
On the Natchez Trace where many pioneer graves lie
Where Indian chants were once carried on the breeze.

It took so many basketfuls of sacred earth to build
Before the ruler, the Great Sun, was fully satisfied
The final upper plaza temples were a vision fulfilled
In his sedan he reached the summit where he'd reside.

Named for a great plantation that once surrounded it
It bore mute witness to endless seasons and a civil war
That scarred the earth and a young nation's spirit
Now profane travelers summit it and offer litter galore.

To this ancient pentagon archaeologists come and go
Trying to build theories from thimblefuls of sifted soil
Pottery, arrows, bones and drones add to what we know
To build this second-largest mound took first-class toil.

On Emerald Mound spirits rose into imperial blue skies
Soaring like hawks over this immense ceremonial site
Abandoned now for centuries since a tribe's sad demise
Ever eroding as are cultures that once shined so bright.