A Vista and a Garden

			
I. A Vista
 
This is no country for men
The sun pries at the seams of the old hearts
And the young grow old staring at the sun.
 
The sooty dusk descends upon the plain
The clouds, from some unseen place,
Reveal themselves with quickened pace.
Their time is come, there’s work to do.
They hang themselves once more upon the stars.
 
II. A Garden Wall
 
The garden wall is pocked as lattice work.
The bleached crags tell of sanctity’s escape,
The fruit has gone to seed, the seed to rot
And all about the place a stench of fate.
 
The lonely tree weeps for its sterility
The nominally changed prays for homogeneity.
A man can carry the voice of god,
The wind the seed of truth.