legacy
a temple to greenery
a sun in heavy mist
sultry through the grasses;
an angel,
a witch
to be avoided by all reasonable measure,
but reason, itself,
is amiss
and we are shouted at,
wanting for troves (or one)
of rest,
where the wind may carry one
next door,
unreasonably
but in the journey,
peace is made in great quantity;
as much as I'll ever need,
feasibly,
until I am done for good.