The gods descend on earth.
Grey-white clouds merge
in an endless cold sky of blue.
Green canopies weave into a network
Blossoming into perfection.
Tall, upright trees in a land
so blissfully quiet.
Even amidst the noise of people's voices
There is a solitude
That is nothing but heaven.
'Why so forlorn?'
Forlornliness is possible only where
the wind shudders with angelic delight,
Spreading a magical web
Silent whispers of cold,
Solemn airs breathe
over mellow flowers of pink and purple,
With splashes of red
that twitter with glee.
The valley streches into an unknown myth.
Maybe an angel descended on the earth
And spread her wings!