Arrival

 I have arrived.

I'm so desperately happy.

Light browns in the morning and hope goes with a ferry.

What's your name?  I think I saw you in the monastery, eating kilted crowns.  The smell was ancient, possibly forty of fifty years old, and it reminded us of cologne.

All you need to do now is monetise it.  The edge of the mirror is wooden.  Thick wood.  The frame, I mean.  In the mirror is a hill and on that hill, years and years ago, a tribe set up a stone.