These Hills Were Built By Giants

These hills were built by giants, in honour
I plaited her a daisy chain, to crown
of the elder folk who once ruled this land.
her golden hair. A butter cup beneath
Beneath each barrow, a king in waiting
her chin would not have glowed so fair. I pressed
sleeps with a shield clutched to his breast and spear
her shape into the grass, atop the dew
in gold mailed hand. Treasures forged in heaven
drenched hill and soaked her skirts with passion’s juice
await their fated hour upon the final
as I kissed her with a will. All summer
battlefield, where the gods will unleash their
through, our love did thresh upon the verdant
power and re-make all worldly matter
slopes, but never once did I encourage her
in whatever form they deem. And all souls
in any nubile hopes. At harvest time,
of mortal men will be scourged by cleansing
in a cooler clime, I took up my scythe
fire, to be born again in summerland,
to reap all I had wrought, but no man would
with bodies drawn from dream. No stone shall stand,
let me work his land, until I paid her
no tree nor plant remain untouched by ire.
all due court. So I took to my heels, fled
Only the hills, as their destiny wills.
the hills and a lesson was truly taught.