Heavy meadows ran a lap around earth
And green faded (twisting) vines turned rabid and fire-fierce.
            
       (over)turned soil spit until venomous spires were conjugated o'er the horizon.

And I, grazing on the moon's lading glare (the scent of Aconitum napellus poisoning the air)
             Let myself drown in the smoke

Children scurrying
(Slithering) out of rooms,

        Lifting the ground amongst their troubled steps (wishing for tethered stones to clack against heavy heels) and dawn creeps sheepishly into a
Graze.

                        Wolf.

Of Death's hand raising attendance and suddenly
         The innocence of time is given way to the rustling of leaves (leaving their shells/denounced) in falltime inquisition
nomore time; evaporating seconds into literary atmospheric temperaments
               Moons scream(exhausted) for the colony of waves eroding
  ****** scenes into an absent shore

Where in my diluted dreams
Do the fragments of your eyes reach a needle point on a
Thread,
Treading and weeding
Pulling and tearing,
My pupils feel pain in the exposure of light,
So I'll construct a blind to pull over them

The fields were wrinkled, grey with snow
The matte (ice) clouds hung tentatively overhead
With eyes of white flaking wonder-
Crying helplessly onto the shoulders of that pink afternoon,
And suddenly
She wept;
For its raw sway was too much for the moment

Lawless,
Interrupted by the gentle swallow of night;
She danced a perfect circle in my head,
But when it was executed in form,
It was more oval.
Opal tinted tides came crashing thru my peripheral

And out of the corner of the universe
Sprouted a flower
I call my love

I don't always know
      How to lay my hands.

When you seem to arch (rustling of ground)/hips, face, hair.
Brilliance. (And innocence is a warm company) to be given on such a
                      day.