light sweeps across the hills
in a soft glow of slow burn heat
nature consumed by
smoldering ember reds
golden flametip edges
warm coal blacks
and powdered ash whites
there is perfect stillness
bare branches and brackish water
caught in symbiotic static and stasis
silent bedrock moves at glacial pace
greater than gods
gargantuan and ominous
a grand display dissipating into the distance
clouds hang hauntingly above the Manor
wandering into the warm wet air
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 feathers and flesh
and the Clouds no longer belong