Sand-scoured, the dead tree slabs a path
Forge-dripped iron staking it in place
Straight and true, straight and narrow
Hangs suspended from the smearing clouds
Holding back the tamed and raging sea
Where man-god speaks, ‘let light be’
And spears the poles that make it so.
Victorian victory, monument to leisure
Epicurus strolls into the vanishing point.

About suzanawylie

Suzana Wylie is the not-very-pseudo pseudonym of Susan Wylie Wilson, because let's face it, there are lots of Susan Wilsons around, and as an author, I want readers to find ME and not the bazillions of others. I've been writing all my life - since I learned to hold a pencil anyway - and can't NOT write. Other people have to breathe to live; I have to write.
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