Figure D5 TUNNEL
From pricking ozone glare, toward the south,
We tread a steep defile: a rising howl
Of wind is heard to fret the cavern’s mouth:
A rudely formed and stalactited cowl.
The gale, irregular, as if a foul
And giant creature were by croup annoyed,
Like borborygmus in a Titan’s bowel
As matter settles, breaks, and is destroyed:
The stuttered gale portends that we approach a VOID.