Beneath the dome of Ekerbraun--
Which lay somewhere on Po--
The children dance across the lawn
With heads as white as snow
The grown-ups lounge around all day
On portches made of stone
They speak of places far away--
Places few have gone
The trees that grow in Ekerbraun
Supply the dome its air
The ashes of old linger on
They'll be forever there
A river flows from Stross to Lup
It curvs like a snake
The Pople drink from metal cups
They fish with wooden stakes
Up in the hills the houses stand
They're made of mud and timber
The wood worms share the Pople's land
They make the houses limber
There are no birds beneath the dome--
No fox, goat or deer
The only animal Po has known
Are tiny unilear
There are no windows in the dome
No person has ever seen out
The Pople think that they're alone--
Are they?
Copyright 2011 by Casey Sean Harmon. All Rights Reserved.
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