His fathers thin lips
Stretching further, thinner still,
As hard granite words are tipped
Over his wills.
That of a teenage man.

Doubted his fierce eyes are resolute
A mite disrespectful.
The Paternal tone casts him to the fields as a mute.
Going beyond the frills of a small towns hem and needle.
Penance in solitude and labour, and bold hills.

His lean form bundles up his few needs.
He trudges, head chin to chest
Hunching an angular shoulder blade to his mothers keen.
A row of backs watch him ascend the peak nearest.
Their ears deaf and their site blind, their hearts bound.


A distant line of firs beckoning, dots of grey fleece become clearer.
The rise is hard for him, boots worn the thin of the poor,
His clothes not suited to the crystal chill of the thin air.
He slumps into his bed under the wide skies, to sleep a stupor.
Low bleating of the punishing flock a bitter comfort.


He was not used to time alone with the monotony of his own thoughts.
After a period of arrogant control, reality wandered.
First to the right, then to the left, it bought
his senses and curved around and bend away over the mountains
Far into the distant hard sun.

This made the comets sing,
The grasses roll back and forth
like the tides the oceans bring.
He swam in these grasses,
Walked on the lakes
And sat on the east winds wing.

The trees folded their branches as arms,
Leaves winked and
butterflies whispered making things calm.
New iron forged in darker caves
Transcendent species having
New supplicants asking for lovers alms


She, in warm blooded fur stirred the boy
A golden pearl of an eye,
A pointed glint of a tooth
A fantasy in flesh and of son
Suggested everything to him that must happen from now on.