Across my field on the other side of Noyo River stands, a redwood tree,
In its dead top branches, osprey raise their young in craggy crown.
Years have passed and countless seasons, fledglings learning how to soar,
Guided by the ancient knowledge, taught by those who came before.

Through the winters, through the summers, steadfast stands the ancient tree,
Witness to the cycle’s rhythm, life and death in harmony.
Osprey parents teach their offspring, how to fish and how to fly,
How to build a nest from nothing, reaching upwards to the sky.

Generations come and flourish, nurtured by this timeless guide,
In the shadows of the branches, where the river meets the tide.
Secrets of the Noyo River, whispered through the rustling leaves,
In the heart of craggy branches, where the osprey find reprieve.