Countless moons ago in times long past, ancestral journeys started, to lands beyond horizons’ crimson suns.

Epic voyages, before men’s scriptures told of ancient gods,

a distant future’s history had begun.

Passing mountains, glaciers, rivers, lakes, great plains, and forests grand, they found their ways through all of Turtle Island.

Finding harmony with the world around, to shape their ways of life, their cultures so enlightened all the while, and

they thrived upon these lands, building homes and raising families, planting roots to grow a future safe and free.

Their children filled those homes, with hopeful dreams and joyous laughter, gazing up, out on October days to see…

Gently landing under autumn shades.

Spinning down like helicopter blades.

Resting under winter’s cloak, ‘til spring

seedlings sprout under pine and oak.

The graceful flight of a humble maple seed.

To this hemisphere kept so pristine, they sailed their tall ships westward, across Atlantic winds and waves for weeks.

Guided over ocean waters, by their back-staves and the stars,

onward southwest past those green Laurentian peaks.

Welcomed graciously by local folk, to learn and share the landscape, alliances anew would soon be cast.

In trades of Europe’s wares for beaver pelts, exploring fresh terrain, new languages, new skills, and wealth amassed.

and they settled on these lands, building homes and raising families, planting roots to grow a future strong and free.

Their children filled those homes, with hopeful dreams and joyous laughter, gazing up, out on October days to see…

Spinning down to plant through grass and ground.

Grown branches reach for skies to fill with leaves abound.

Emerald shades to paint the springs and summers.

Gorgeous fades to radiant autumn colours.

The charming life of that humble maple seed.

Then man’s grim traditions of dogma, greed, and war,

took hold of those who’d sailed here, like never seen before.

Their gracious hosts betrayed by men they’d welcomed as new friends.

Lands stolen, cultures silenced as most lives met brutal ends.

Children ripped from families, and raised with foreign prayer,

Stripped of enlightened heritage, oppressed by terms unfair.

A genocide years long before the word described these wrongs

These ugly secrets long kept from our history’s books and songs,

As decades passed those ugly secrets were revealed to lead to insight: To colonize was never wise a scheme.

Rediscovering the wisdom of the first who walked these lands,

our growing nation plants a kinder maple dream:

Safe haven for those fleeing by a rail named “Underground”,

by crossing oceans’ waters, by soaring past the clouds.

A symphony of dialects from all humanity,

a people free from barriers to who we’re born to be.

So they came from near and far, to find new homes and join our family, planting roots to bind the true north strong and free.

Their children joined our own, in hopeful dreams and joyous laughter, gazing up, out on October days to see…

Flying gloriously through autumn air

Waving over wondrous views we share

A banner of a bright red leaf from our native sugar tree,

Uniting Pearson’s Pennant’s recommended set of three.

Joining all from coast to coast to coast, one people, sea to sea,

The storied life of a land so blessed by that humble maple seed.