He is an earthy fool of morning—

makes the uphill trek of five leagues

and gathers anemones.



He is a fiery child of dusk—

arrives in the quietness beyond fatigue

and knocks at the door.



She is a flighty girl of night—

wears an anemone in her hair

and opens the door.



It is a deranged river of dawn

breaks the shackles that tamed it once

and rears its hood to strike.