Death Rattle

There, with ivy tidings to the dark German forests,
fairytale birds sing through a springs’ light
and down the rich soil path; a pasture.

Bathing in golden rays, the lush green spread before me,
on-up a distant hill, ‘till it poured against an ancient castle-wall;
a kind of old you don’t find in America.

There, when islands sank into a dark Hawaiian water,
humble giants chant a haunting, summer song
and down the wetted walls; a void.

Swallowing the heavens, the deep black opened before me,
down into a depth where only nightmares dwell;
a kind of creature you won’t find on land.

There, where icy waters lap the dark Alaskan beaches,
sky born V’s trumpet goodbyes to falls’ cold
and down the bristly fjords; a bay.

Petting the atmosphere, steely-blue widened before me,
aside grand peaks stretching to Olympic abodes;
a kind of peace you can’t find at home.

Here, while ideas roam into the dark Coloradoan prairies,
hibernating ancestors groan winters’ passing
and through the scraggly brush; a mountain.

Dancing in moon beams, hidden in the encompassed me,
oblivion takes up quarters;
a kind of death you’ll own.