From the Santa Catalinas, the Rincons, the Santa Ritas, the Tucson, the Tortolita mountains
they came faster, faster, faster than light to this mountain cradle, the Sonoran Desert.
Spinning, spinning, spinning a cocoon of love around them. Then right through them a thousand love arrows lift them skyward. From young to old, leaving stardust for a pierced woman's mind.
They see you Gabrielle Giffords, you are the Arizona Sycamore Tree. Your roots run deep in this desert land. You stand tall, gracing the blue Tucson sky. Shade those in need as you bend to the Sonoran wind.
Let the summer monsoon pour down the tears of heaven into your soul. Lightning lights your way: star dust medicine keeps you hanging on. The rain is sweet. The rocks speak the legend of the Six Angels and the Arizona Sycamore Tree.
They see you standing tall at first light of a new dawn.
Dancing, dancing, dancing with the morning mountain breeze.
The legend of the Six Angels and the Arizona Sycamore Tree.
—Kirk DeLong
