There’s something in the mix
and disarray of stone
that coalesces on
a lifeless hill, this zone
worth scrutinizing twice,
which speaks of sacrifice
of early Celtic monks
who wandered mystic seas,
or Amerindian
ascendants, once the freeze
of glacial shock was past—
scenarios are vast.
An astronomical
divide extends between
its megalithic end
and dawning now unseen
—the sum of equinox
and solstice times these rocks.
Spirits cloaked in flesh
and earth tones pray for grass
to overthrow the dark
and fund the middle class.
This is the end of this series, an experiment of sorts in writing and posting. I decided to write one stanza per day for three days, and post its progress daily. Today's stanza grew to include a coda (or an additional 2/3 stanza.) I made some slight changes to the first and second stanzas for continuity sake. Thanks for reading.
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