One speck on a solitary hill, standing
Outlined against the green, watching
Flowered plains stretching, empty
While birds swoop, flashing
A sudden blot of red, soaking
Into trampled mud, churning
Hooves grinding fragile petals
Swaying peacefully in the breeze, catching
Wisps of hair on a solitary hill, above
Distant eyes, staring, dimly down
Into rocky glades, stones sharp as swords
Cutting, shattering against metal, hanging
Suspended among screams, mud churned with red
Birds soaring, swooping gently in the silence
Above a solitary hill, one speck, seeing
Faces in the wind of past, kneeling
On emerald grass above flowered field
And rocky glade, kissing
A timeworn relic, a rusted blade, turning
Leaving silence on a solitary hill