Tall. Proud. Pure. Remnants. Left behind by kin who long ago sailed away in long vessels with tall masts warlike spears. Abandoned. In house of stone and tin. A falling garrison last line of defence. All is lost. Of struggles long forgotten remains only the love of susurrous brooks and deep forests of misty mountains and little flowers. A wistful yearning for oceans and ships once used by ancient family And the pigment that stains face and flag in the colours of sun and cloudless skies. [4/27/99]