Sung Harmonies 

In the sprawl of narrowing strata

Engraved paths shoot misty grass blades.

A yawning sun, mellow light

Dappled across the rugged trench carved into dirt.

Dry bed, weeping silently

And invisible to the tuning in the pearls of our ears.

A clamber with melodies whispering,

Bracken sticking to the breeze

In a coarsely sung harmony of

Razors woven into green cloth.

These tombstone rocks

Sliding; descending through a scale,

To a bent and broken tree,

Hollowed with amplified vibrations.

Once struck by lightning and cursed,

Arching with the bow from fingers of light.

Dissonance amidst reluctant sunny breaths.

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