Signposts point
everywhere
roads bend like
saucers
heads nod but not in
sleep
cream eyes gaze into gauze
the might on the
hill
shy as a native
raspberry
hides from our
trembling tongues
wind slams the
window-frame
breaking our fingers
here we are safe
in your lustrous
valleys
from strikes and
rebellions
from speeches and ruin
no one can spirit us
off like a baby
we lie in your
golden arms
O city of mountains!
terrific!
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