light sweeps across the hills
in a soft glow of slow burn heat
nature consumed by
smoldering ember reds
powdered ash whites
golden flametip edges
and warm coal blacks
there is perfect stillness
bare branches and brackish water
caught in symbiotic static and stasis
silent bedrock moves at glacial pace
gargantuan and ominous
greater than gods
diffusing into the distance
clouds hang hauntingly above the Manor
wandering into the warm wet air
stoutly surging into the sky
against the gentle suppression of empty ether
the birds are the observers
regal and reserved
of the meaningless motion of Man
amid the frenzied flourishing of fauna
He Stands at Right Angles with the world,
Raising Flattened Hard pine Walls.
He Creates a Floral Formula of Captive marigolds and oleanders.
He Plots His land with Mathematical Precision.
He is Cold, Calculating, and Consuming.
then a quiet flicker of flesh and feathers
and the Clouds no longer belong