We were looking for a keyword for night.
All we got is a few pylons in the country
For the villages suddenly bursting on us,
With mountains of stones around them
And roads crumbling like stones in sun,
As if they held the secrets of the stones.
And the mountains are of broken stone
Of ungainly teeth gaps, in stone bodies.
They hardly inspire thinking sculpture.
(reading a poem The Pylons by Stephen Spender)