You don't always notice them.
The thorn and tangle of years
has smudged their alien form, but there -
under the berries and briar, the lizards' hot
flickering, a slow-worm curled
in their bulks' cool hollow - they urge
their granite stolidity, their right
to be where they stand. No return now
to arid slopes, mountain's sterility,
wind's hard blowing. Too
ponderous to go further, the force
that had driven them spent, deposited
in an alien land, seeming dull
in the shadows of flickering trees, still
each molecule bears a memory
of feldspar, mica, quartz
and glitters if touched by the sun.
Outsiders by Gabriel Griffin | Sandalwood & Vanilla Poetry Reed Diffuser Set
$20.00Price
