Fire in Four Quarters by sallysavestheday

East (rómen): The Lands Beyond

The first Men

to cross the mountains

murmur tales of

drought,

of hills bleached to sand,

meadows dried and

dulled until they

flare like tinder to a

thoughtless spark.

Their hollow eyes

remember the pale

bones of herds

and flocks too great

to water, fields

left fallow,

abandoned hearths.

Finrod listens.

In his mind’s eye

sweet Cuiviénen’s hollow

lies sere and dry,

the pale earth

cracking,

revealing bones

where once were

stars.