Who would've thought
this great, raw rock could rise
from such tamed soil?
Erupt Iron Age forth?
And inconsequential struggler
must toil sole-gnawing slope
to pay homage atop
tonsured post.
Pan Cheshire Plain slow to concrete anomaly
of Liverpool - wolf-scattered kill of whitened bones
to mist-garnering, whelking Wales.
No chore to conjure
stern, squatting thighs, fur-quivered,
bicept bouldered to clench stone-smoothed, spear shaft,
eye sockets tightened to eagle-hone.

Who holds the heights,
controls the hoard.