Come from the hollow tree—
Up to the pond in glee;
Whisper your thoughts to me.
Quaint, little forest nymph
I pray — please do not flee.

I calm the fire on this damp, cobble street.
My body is quiet, my breath — discrete.

I am found beyond the light marigolds;
In this antarctic lust that ever holds.
     Follow she, to the diaphanous heart—
Entangled between the incessant folds
Of the silver meadow that lightly goes.

Mr. Frost you must think me right,
For I will not visit your solemn woods tonight.

This be what I harness most
Beyond the barren streets
                              On the rocky coast.

The old house, built of wooden post
Protects her heart that loudly beats—
This be what I harness most.

The way the lamp
glimmers light on to
human skin
is quite fascinating.
It's only a simple gradient;
but the coyotes call out
in the wooden,
hollow distance.
The deer knows better.
Now put the fulfillment out;
I see the sun flicker and
move slowly.