naturae

 

Amid the nighttime sea-chop,
the sharp pigment found
in the white sunlight
kindles blue fire on
the high breezes, and
the grand heirarchy of wind sprites,
miniature gods of the high winds,
are on the clouds, flying

all this and the wind
still howls, all this
and i am still unmade;
found frost in the
leaving of the dawn hour,
sunset the fading iris,
eve-set the lidding world

the skies dreamed
of undiscovered colors,
rivers hewed valleys
in their slow way,
and the sun, his back
aching, retired beneath
the waters