Here is one of my favourite Margaret Atwood poems:

The Moment

The moment when, after many years

of hard work and a long voyage

you stand in the centre of your room,

house, half-acre, square mile, island, country,

knowing at last how you got there,

and say, I own this,

is the same moment when the trees unloose

their soft arms from around you,

the birds take back their language,

the cliffs fissure and collapse,

the air moves back from you like a wave

and you can't breathe.

No, they whisper. You own nothing.

You were a visitor, time after time

climbing the hill, planting the flag, proclaiming.

We never belonged to you.

You never found us.

It was always the other way round.

Margaret Atwood

And I say:

I am the azure blue dragonfly,

I am the purple-black juniper berry,

I am the red fox of this prairie grassland,

I am the bergamot of the Rockies,

I am the bison of ancient times,

I am the meadowlark's song,

I am the Well Keeper of my soul,

Earth and Sky placed me here.

Each day I find the reason.

Mostly I perceive the vibration

to match the voice of the meadowlark

and the color of dragonfly.

I am the Well keeper of my acreage,

This acre the size of the Earth,

The scent of ripe Autumn leaves,

The nocturnal sound of the horned owl,

The taste of juicy wild raspberries,

The sight of the dancing northern lights.

I own nothing.

I am all of it.

Andrée Vaillancourt