Poleta

Beneath the fragrant sagebrush, lizards run
On ancient scorching ground of eras past,
And ravens spiral, soaring in the sun,
O'er endless waves of rock in mountains vast.
Then starlight and the cool, blue second moon
Evoke the peaceful time ere great collide,
And swimming phantoms swirl to spectral tune
Of long-forgotten shore and ghostly tide.
In morning once again we become blind,
The blazing sky away burns nighttime's trance,
We only see, through hills, a ribbon wind,
A whisper of the great tectonic dance.
So listen for the gentle spirits' word!
From living Earth their stories can be heard.