Seed pushed up, and slowly grown in
foreign storms, the winds of Mars, from a fallen oak
on the highest peak of Carroke Point. Altitudes
a different sort. I scaled the eastern face,
felt the breath of death and toppled on the
small plateau. The Peak.
A puff of whipped cream at my feet. The cloud.
The clean. The seed. A different breed.
A closer look reveals shadow pupped corrugated
leaves. Interesting. What could it mean? The
wind recedes. I walked around and surveyed the
scene. Serene. The sediment at my feet,
rusted iron filings, chipped granite and peat. Definitely
unique. How did I…
Seasinks
acraein 
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