Thousand upon thousands of grains am I, beneath the sun and open sky. I line the shores and deserts wide, where small hands build, and waves decide.

With walls raised high and watchful eyes, I stand where strength and safety lies. Built to guard from threat or fight, a place that holds against the night.

I rise without feet from grounded stone, Yet bow to none though I stand alone. I carry passage, but hold no door, And whisper weight from shore to shore.

I’m sweet by name, but not by taste, A thousand mounds spread out in haste. Brown in summer, green in rain, Tourists climb to see my domain.

I wear a blanket cold and white, Where trees refuse to grow upright. Caribou wander, foxes play, And summer lasts but a short lived stay.