Inaccessible Pinnacles Poem by Philip Dodd

Inaccessible pinnacles,
dark mountain summits,
like cracked crowns,
axe hewn, broken helmets,
cleave through clouds,
spike the sky.
Few venture up there,
some train to try.

Unbidden, granite island,
green and grey,
built around me,
sat in my kitchen,
broadened and surrounded,
came back to me today.

Men cannot build there,
will always be the wild.
I smiled on that comfort,
my vision clear,
to see it as a child.

All right, I am going,
I remember saying,
I know I can only wander here.
This is the wild,
no place for settlement.
I looked up and saw an eagle,
it soared out from a peak,
wide winged, further south,
it vanished, woke wonder,
deeper than my tongue can speak.