kissed by fantasy
I begin my sagas climb along antiquated
trails tracking faint sighs through a distance until
snowy moonlight mellowed with the rising bleus of
dawn pausing only for to think a second near the
cool lonesome stream leaving little time for
thought of eat or drink & living
flashed like a butterflies
passing spirit
in the night
alive only to
begin dying silence
stalked on the glades of dales

death shaded slightly by withered winter
trees that little helped against the penetrating
breeze there I wove a coat of warm candled
dreams which announced on tongues of
secret rhythms other nights rolled
around in spice of thyme
fighting dear life and
limb across deep nervous
chasms while within the blood
brown grass fought the blizzard
whites and 'ol Wisdom of his
years said something but
no one could hear
him