Those scapes
Rock brows with frills of yews, pines
Cloud ruffled about it like a boudoir dancer's hem
I see worlds beneath them
Under the foot time long stamped down, buried
Barrows and dungeons, first glimpses of ebony and gold
Riches piled in mountains, infant
To the soil above
And surrendered to otherworldly hand so,
Minds like mine may see them
And let daydreams grow
Like the yews and the pines
And feed the clouds
With the breath of our sighs
Each time