The land was turned out
by hand and then wind.
Now the earth’s offcuts
rest in endless piles
under the sun, and us.
What would the old soul
who lamented stone’s
upheaval, think now
as we walk, silent
with awe at our world
The land was turned out
by hand and then wind.
Now the earth’s offcuts
rest in endless piles
under the sun, and us.
What would the old soul
who lamented stone’s
upheaval, think now
as we walk, silent
with awe at our world