Cold Earth

The rocks peek in piles to where

Snow’s fingers could not sprawl.

Deep earth under mountains’ beard,

Still unrevealed with an olive stubble,

Clay in kiln and strangled stream.

Earthy lips lap the paws of animals

Passing by,

Sampling traces of tracks,

Tastebuds’ memory lagging behind.

Mud and marrow seep between mountains,

Behind the knee,

Soul of carved crescents

Flow on slopes from eons prior, 

Pumps from a heart that heralds.