Zywa
Tapestry of fields
Pastures, fields and neighbourhoods
along the long serpent -
the river that connects everything
the spine of the patches
Hemed on the other side
with piles of triangles -
bare ridges, scratched
with wide and empty roads
to one another
Mount Wind is rising above
and much, much higher still
a light line limits the tapestry of fields
Spring, and it's still snowing
above the little ant-people
How fast they live
Twice as high: the heavenly
white strip that unassailable
hovers over everything
Only then the ever blue sky
in which I let me fly, safe
beneath eternity
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