[Moodpoems] <br /> <br />In mastodon cold, the lichen clamps on stone <br />walls and the shins of trees picked to spine, <br />its branches scrawling a Saxon script. <br /> <br />The blunt lake glints in a guttering light, <br />shutting itself with a pewter lid, <br />welded in a grip of Nordic tones: <br /> <br />dull silver, salt gray, vein-blue; <br />with punitive butts, the wind compacts <br />the pallid, occlusive waste.<br /><br />William F Dougherty<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/paleolithic/
