So sits it in the darker settlements;
In the glade,
In the long grass,
My whimsy hides, or is hidden.

With the turning trees still visible,
And the near waters just audible,
I remain graspy-greedy,
And long for lightheartedness
Of sunlight,
Of those connection warms.

And so, with steps imperceptible,
Leaving muddled footprints,
I walk on...