Even in the highland padded valley,
There is a break where the sea
Spreads the dunes in restless advances
Brazenly, though the couples walk oblivious
In the shade of ancient sea captains' homes.

Incessantly, the ocean plants wet kisses
Warmed by deep currents from the tropics.
It lures the sand from under the grass
That hides the paths when she made
To chase her shivering thoughts in shelter.

But there is another shadow in the valley
And not from a passing cloud laden with spoils,
Nor the scent of a childhood phantom
Creeping with hunger down the old dirt road
And consuming the time she has left behind.

It is the tip of a crown rising from a bayberry shroud
Seeking dignity in its brown rusted varnish
Hiding its other three gables, not to fit in,
But with the stealth of a King and thieves.
Coming to seize the open space mystery should be.