the high peak
covered green
paradise
one for all
a bare old
stoic's hold top
nature's cell
no prison
but so real
I peer
into heat
from beneath
smoke bellows
pure power
flowing up
spectacle
but not for
destiny
YOU ARE READING
The Isle
Poetrywhat is a man to do when his secret haven is ravaged by a true force of nature?. Based on the tribe form of poetry
