written by: Peter McCann Ashton
first clear the patch of stones,
stand back in wonder, build a wall.
then wonder again next spring,
shoveling out the winter’s crop,
stones pushed up by frost
into the void that you created.
a thousand feet of ice lay overhead,
the land, scraped raw,
crushed and frozen beneath it.
cramped through the millennia,
stunned by thunder, lulled
by the rhythmic murmur of the sea.
and through the melting lens
the numina approximate.
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