It’s funny how the warmest months cause the most shivers
And when light waxes the grain withers.
I’ve seen Demeter with arms so white
They would cure the night colds,
But the morning flew by with leopards leading me
Down a trail that’s only wide enough for two.
Is this the hallowed path I should walk?
Or just some child’s guidelines drawn in chalk.
Leopards stalk
Which is all that’s left when the fruit is eaten

Hobbits feet feel weak on black sand
Ravens beaks look strong with an empty hand

It’s an annual sense of being suffocated by pressure
Earth is above me going forward
I’m frigid
Children dance for the solstice
Three summers past I first wrapped the cast

Now it seems as if this will last till day’s stop
But the last leaf is inevitably bound to drop