On this green clouded peak
The sneering city is silenced
It is slowed by distance,
Chess pieces scuttle down
streets- carried by chance.
Peering down or looking out
A salt splattered beacon burns
Not with the heat from a flame
but with secrets from a forgotten age.
Fragile blades dance around its
base, celebrating an eternal gift.
Waves crash somewhere below
All is silent here, its so loud
we can think of nothing but time.
Sunday, September 3, 2006