Classic Poem

The flames above the wall,
private show for the Gods, the city
burned three days, at night, smoke
warmed the stars. Border forest
shifted with shields - scritch-owl,
a horse's impatient breath - the hawk
wheeled under a pennant moon.
In the grey dawn men turned North.
The druid notched these events
onto trunks that lead to deeper wood -
envisioned - silence, incantation;
the God found within the stone.