As the curtain clouds open her eyes,
to depth of skies with stars:
The wonder stare makes question where
Fair delay disturbs an answer that is yet to come
All the towers above and clouds below the tree,
dark shadows posses like the haunting pine:
behind me lifting light to spirit; each sound
a distant whisper, each step, on
the leaves of wind hit trees; and water
dropping with no rain
The strains of hammer on the skulled dead log,
And each hit to a louder breeze, a harder hiss of:
A whisper from an empty hill-
A voice from the depth of Earth.
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