The summer has fallen off
days turn to dust

the hill battered with flames
wind-rocked and night-blasted

burning in the dark in defence
burning to be seen

naked on the horizon
a thin seam of light.

A line of hands waving
they are sinking

into the hills heart
deadened.

They force the night to bend.
Change direction turn to dawn

and there are tears
and attempts to talk

tearing the hillside
eating into its hide

A cold back turned and absent.
Flames curdling the grass.