Scratches in the ground

The scratches you see in the ground

Are not random marks from machines, trucks, 

Shovels. They weren’t made by humans.

Not animals. This is the very spot

The giant Hors and the elf Tiil met 

When humans were still between ape and man.

Hors was a woman-man giant, very old,

And she was dying. Tiil, the man-woman 

Elf of the plain, tried to help her. He knew

That if Hors died something would be lost,

hidden for long ages, far beyond the time

the ape became human. Tiil sighed 

And scratched his runes into the ground. 

He focused moonlight through the canyon. 

He burned the right herbs—he knew he did—

And the bear and the bird came to speak.

But it was no good. Hors fell, next to 

The runes Tiil had scratched into the ground.

Tiil stroked her face and looked into her eyes

As she died. “Well, that’s it,” he said. 

And he went away with his clan. They asked

Where they were going, when they would return.

“To the next place,” Tiil said. “And I don’t know.”

He felt the air changing, the air that Hors had

Imbued with sweetness with her every exhale.

“When another giant awakens, we’ll return,” 

Tiil said. The giant Hors turned to stone, 

The runes solidified in the ground. 

The bear and the bird visit, when no one sees.

They tell their children long, bright stories 

About the Giant and the Elf of the Plain.

The children listen, wide-eyed, and await

The awakening of another giant.