Poem: "Coming of Age"

As more caves are discovered and explored
  And as the days of "busting virgin passages" are coming to an end;
As spelunkers become cavers, and cavers become women and men,
  And we learn to treat these caves with the respect that they demand;
It becomes time to slow down, stop--even look around a little bit.
  There might be more to these old friends than just the thrill of it,
These capsules of time, with secrets written in stone and whispering magic sands.
  Getting to know one can be a lifelong undertaking
What with the mysterious forces that go into the natural making,
  And the slow tedious comprehensions of cannots and cans.
Maybe it's the urge to settle down that tends to afflict old age;
  You know--a new perspective from the rocking-chair, or by turning a new page,
Or, perhaps, the heart is just catching up with the hand.