The valley sleeps in shades of gray, Beneath the mountain’s heavy crest, Where passing clouds of yesterday Have laid the jagged peaks to rest. A single spire pierces through The tangled web of silent trees, With ancient clock and quiet view, It anchors all the passing breeze. No voice is heard, no bells now chime, Just stone and slope and fleeting light, A monolith untouched by time, Awaiting the embrace of night.