A blind wind navigates cold chimes, insinuates itself

beneath this moment's unutterable sentience in vain.

Sighs coax an arthritic creak from the open door;

night's perspectives form, 

and declare my window's dimension paradoxical.

On the inside a deft flame rages,

reclaims the hours without number I cast to unconsciousness

and new light renders memory an uncouth visitor,

this wolf hunts summer

beyond all promise of abundance the harvest could ever deliver,

beyond the storm filled ghost rattle of myriad restless leaves,

the starless sea, the virgin flowers, hope

Despair's thief incants the awakening of a too long half-buried jewel,

marked for brilliant skies and the passages of infinite suns

a treasure unfamiliar with necessity and unsung dreams,

this divinity,

her love a parhelion, the lone gleam on a perfect conch 

ablaze on shores as white and radiant as morning.