Sandstone Hills  these sandstone hills, i never wandered,  in my dreams or even in my sleep.  but long ago, far before my time and yours,  something made huge footprints in  sand,  beaches were always so beautiful, a place for wading,  puddling in shallows,  finding shellfish maybe and small crustaceans,  scurrying to feed, hoping to escape all dangers from above.   but bones were buried in the seaside sand.   we are like that still, but now the predators don't fly avove,  they are among us: wolves now look just like sheep.