The Giant’s Cradle

We drove over a crest and down a winding slope

and came upon Gunns Plains, broad and deep

What we saw thrice intensified our vision

for through it a fine vein of water flowed

but we are stolen from our special glacial view

by water diamonds; the suns like to impress,   

aureoles that lap at the river bank then flee

 

We descended cult light, and made the cradle 

intensely fertile, crafted by giant’s hands

The vivid valley before light appears unlikely

We found the stream that caught our eye

and went to its gentle flowing waters

and we saw ourselves as our parents did

and tried to imagine ourselves as newborns

We are at the water’s edge, coo-cooing

 

We soon faltered, saw our clean selves vanish

and the brilliant gems do not return

For a fleeting moment we were lost and unsettled

We got it together and made our journey

and stayed close to the waters as long as we could

Until the road rewound, and sent us away from

this wrought crib for newborn giants,

Kept supple by a parliament of fragile foliage, 

Distant and dull to eyes of preying developers.

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