New stories are lost within sight
Of the fading west
It will be a while
Before people talk

Standing in the desert
Remembering windshields
A white house and windmills
Pearls lose to dewdrops

In the dusk from the ruins
Retire the scholars' facts refuted

Beneath the sun's grimace

Fearful of such hush
Elders whisper
Recalling waterfalls
Proud nations
And snaky roads that choked green breath From growing grass