Waves of a chain of hills
Sharp peaks of exclamation
A roaring waterfall
Carving shapes in ancient sediments
Fragrance of wildflowers
Countless perfumes would fall short
of words
And your lips

Forests of earthy bamboo
Creaking in an alien tongue
Mazes of reeds in the marsh
Whistling to nature’s dance
Pristine ice adorning a crevice
Cloaking death with bursts of light
Burning sand that tires the strong
A mirage of oases to seduce
And your lips