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.