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.