Rivers of gold and red
collide o’er carpets of must
Flow to frozen fronds
caught in shimmering
shrouded white mists

Melting in longer days
to heavy dewy scents
of saps and green alchemy
twisting, sensing, exploring
transcending nights

Starlit glass sparkles
reflecting the roar
of maelstrom mirages
the could-be but-isn’t
trapped and impatient
like a pacing lioness