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.