On Little Tower

the crimson heath blushes sparse.

Its perpendicularly-stacked snouts -

fox pups - that have tumbled out of den

and piled atop one another

to sniff-investigate

strange creatures visiting.

...

Sadly, these whimsical flowers

have been viciously mowed down -

for of course, this handy knoll is set aside

for fire observation, first,

and wildflowers must spring up -

when they can -

from gnarled, limb-lopped plants.

...

The view across plains,

despite desecration, stills the heart.

That stretch -

all the way to Port Welshpool,

The Honeysuckles, Holey Plains inspires one

to flibbertigibbet-Maria-spin

upon the glittering, quartz-littered zenith.