Wood hardened to rock holds the memory of fog drawn low, years of flood in layers of glass, hills of sand born from ancient chill now shade the one who walks the flats
“Petrified redwoods exhale spore-sighs where Thuban gripped fog-veils low. 12,761 monsoons vein obsidian rings aurora-thick. Glaciers birth dune-canopies from marrow hush—what crown shades the wandere...”