the light flutters like ribbons,
the light gold leaf and flickering
amber, the light tenuous in her
gentleness, slumbering with her whims
and her sleep of blue earth, and air,
breath of joy, breath of dust.
night holds us and her daydreams are
a forgotten song, and night is like
the streams of water that awaken with
summer and her cool rivers of air, night with
her paradise far from the gathering
of limb and ledge, far from the leaves
of the dusk where the shadows tremble and the
water turns itself into tears, and we hear the
ghosts cry to the pretty sky,
sometimes we hear the ghosts cry.