Indian Mounds and Towers
Each stone cements the stairs to air
to be climbed in dampness, darkened.
Lit by windows still left to hollow
the light down shafts in spirals.
But, Oh the height one reaches in darkness
and Oh the breadth attained by such
when, after climbing to sweet exhaustion,
one gazes on beauty defying time
Wings outstretched, this flying eagle
placed with care each stone aligned
Lifting the mound on sacred honor
Printed with fingers on Indian hands
Spiral the moon with this stiff darkness
Cradle the sun with white windows and light
Shoulder the dampness and infinite likeness
as fast and as fleeting, to eagles in flight.
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