Walk to Bonaguil

Left the cold house and broke hastily through –
passed for a day over poster perfect fields
and the sun charged with us, freeing the air.
My friend snatches a deer from the woods grasp

and chatters for an hour about its litheness.
It fell to us to unlock this path’s puzzle –
spell hieroglyphs upon the land’s patterns –
leave nothing else but time behind us.

Like the moon frosting the evening, brushes the darkness,
a Castle falls out of the forest –
meets us as we crunch around a corner:
It carves its ancient signature into us.

This must have let us forget, as we left there in darkness
and stumbled up the stone-ridden hills, slowly,
eerie at the earth crop’s murmuring whispers –
the little light that fed the surging darkness.

Then, chancing the elder hunting track,
we saw histories of the boar’s foraging,
burned stars into memory as we shivered –
hearing Orion’s shadow, under the frosted roads.

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