Pillow of Winds

Hailing the west mountain with shallow and stretching light Over the fumes and corning ware chemical bath Through windows that lament the days drowning outside lightly slapped shaking by multitudes of flags Fields too far resign and yeild gold or rust at seasons march Down the valley clouds begin to keep and winds to shriek Forgotten orchards still would reap yet see how the plows are overgrow and rot Where stalks upon dreamt shores autum golems with tiny epiphany wrought