Forest paths and along rocky shelves
a mountainous terrain, underfoot but simple steps
peered crevices, lofty scapes, downtrodden things
the messages of space and time not yet forlorn
though stark sublimity; more nimble avenues
than sheep dare, a windborn precipice of seeming
whence daunted by the sight, thence humbly still.
Some tracks, in pace of venture, seeing or finding
cry out themselves, as if the rocks would speak
and the wind whisper; there's something here
more than meets the eye, as shadows dance
trees bend and raise, waving branches
the leaves clapping their hands-
one last breath before the plunge
while very Earth is heaving.