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St Mary’s Vale

Somewhere on an infinite convex shard of ridge in moss-bark

and the sediment of primordial pilgrims

is the Vale Tree.

Wrapped in sap,

rivers of copper in its arterial leaves

spark the treeline edge.

The tinctures spill down,

soil is bled with spun metallurgy

It is a priceless valley

of fecund pastels ores minerals

forgotten by agriculture.


It is a valley never to be left.



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