These
rocks change slowly. Imperceptibly.
Each
god-like millennial glance
Perceives
but a ripple
Of
their sacred, slow motion.
Rocks
frozen at 300 million years.
Frozen
- stone dead.
A
jigsaw of rock upon rock -
As
first seen, in a revelation,
By
nature’s most basic eye.
Some
hang free, unhinged,
But
solid to sight.
Rocks
of curve, fold and trench.
And
sandstone, that yellow flesh
Under
the grey skin,
Which still
flashed sharply
In
retort to the sun.
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