Distant tower sandwich of hills
laced in placid unseen clouds
find a settling bog pink and pine
like a smudge lake calmly bleak
wayward striping light beams that shadow
an illicit thought final place to rest.
I surrender to uneven meadows
wet patches of miles forgetting to limp
plodding to reach a measured gate
time aging pilgrim I am carried
on limbs outstretched a tilting sound
all shallow breathe the color of sky.
Blue silence cathedral of pilgrims
grave tilted stone fallen to ancient
the hordes come poke the fading
path of the faithful once monastic valley
gone to ruin in sacred remoteness
midst bleached pines a dusky solitude.