by Byron Beynon
The framework of names
connected to a pressure of rocks
dating a countryside
with soft and hard looks,
the sequence of layers
with fern imprints,
an identity brooding with age;
the tribal faces
with Ordovician and Silurian families,
their shadows caught
by the links of territory.
Blue stones sifting
through the mind’s burning frost of evening,
a source where the dark earth
threads silently from
intense foundations,
the marked origins deepening
during the passage of fugitive time.
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The layers and "fugitive time" -- this poem works very well. Thanks!
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