They shook the mountain caves at night,
They broke the boulders, cracked the cliffs,
They mocked the flags on sunrise snow,
They howled around the prayer wheels.
Then far beyond the mountain’s pull
A gentle chant, the plateaux’s thought,
Was caught in clouds and spiralled up
To join the Karakoram’s breath.
They stopped a while to hear the chant,
Put down their knives of Yengisar.
Then, furrow-browed, they went on back
To breaking wilderness and peace.
For all their noise, they heard the change:
They sensed the myths had rearranged.
Gavin R Jones 
the Barmanou is a mysterious “wildman” of the Karakoram mountains and on to the Tibetan Plateaux.
Beautiful images and great action, I like the way you tell a story.
Memorable last stanza, Gavin.
Love the images in this poem. I have to admit to looking up, barmanou.
Glad you liked the piece. Have also to admit that the Barmanou is pretty “off the beaten track”. I just kind of stumbled on them myself…