Pocket of life amidst the barrens
Bowl before the heavens
Stony tendrils spread under vaulted sun
In their midst a spring fed glade

Amidst miles of rock and held aloft
Greenery grows and beckons souls
Weary of war and valley heat,
“Come partake, my verdant sanctum.”

Little more than grass and shrubs
This little spot, a mountain’s Eden
In all directions: rock, dust, death and war
Pocket of life amidst the barrens