At dawn's first light, she awakens,
casting off her grey stone shell.
Her skin reflects Old Sol's blaze,
revealing no sign of age or blemish.

She takes to the tower's spiral staircase,
descending with the timely grace
of Autumn's auburn leaves falling.
To the pier, she walks alone.

She comes to rest on an ivory throne
and casts her gaze upon the mountainside.
Dining on dates and a spectrum of berries
as she solemnly inspects every summit and base.

Sailing down from overhead,
a hunting falcon attempts to catch a view
of the maiden seated on her chiseled cloud.
She neither blinks, nor turns. Eyes set upon the jagged rocks.

Her purpose is frightful, but she continues.
From eras since passed and still to unhatch,
she waits for the mountains to come alive.
Once more, she will tend to her hard-set herd.