Tumbled stones and refuse from pines gather

Tumbled stones and refuse from pines gather

Where granite slopes intercede topsoil,

And Gaia's gentle grip carves her cipher

For skies above to sit over and mull,

And watch her creation wander and sway

Through needles and grass and hedges and trees,

Quickly ascending to heaven's bright gate

Should mortality let him pass so free,

From fetal rite based in this craggy grit

To scale in search of unscorch'd air to breathe,

As he learns to walk and run out of spite

For the summit whose sole conquest is death;

The weeping aged one pleas for his reprise

To slow his dash towards the sanguine skies.

Reviews

[Ken e Bujold]

Well Cass, all I can say, if the words in your head sound better than the words on the page here, there are a bunch of poets about to be rendered obsolete. Bloody marvelous poem, and I am not sure why no has reviewed it up to now.

Ken e

[Cass Ashe]

I appreciate the kind words and I'm glad you liked it.