Hill ripped inside out.
Hard heart broken to a million, trillion pieces
Spewed out into the sun for lichen to climb.
An impossible jig-saw tipped onto golden slopes to refract the high light;
A puzzle, pieces missing- shipped on seas,
Mismatched on rooves, in walls, on floors.
This one next to this...
Each missing piece a decision carefully eyed,
Carefully placed.
Each conscript knows a palimpsest of a discarded shape,
A brother tossed aside, one particle in a heaving mound.
Metamorphic,
Just another transformation in an atomic life.

I love to see wild goats in the landscape. Brave mountain souls that roam free. There's an ancient knowledge in their eyes.  And how magnificent are those enormous, defiant horns that the billy goats wear.