in the pale naked running
of fall on amber fell
granite and shale in cutting
and there is little concern for
if these lilt and lang of words
are sensible or sane
there is only the running
come chill the winds' bite
with the descent of eventide
old jack gives kiss on flesh
in the pale naked running
of fall on amber fell gone rime
granite and shale in cutting
how grey must i grow?
an endless wait for
the beat of ravens' wings
flying low over
fresh fallen snow
sometimes the then seems
are not really any things at all
but other seems unconsidered
that beckon with their call, so
now back to the la-z-boy and
the rocking and the nights, dreaming
new oaks from acorns alone
but no, no, don't let seams show
keep all those seems deep inside
turning towards headstones
these broken days we, under
the curtains green falling
& lost in the dream
stolen kiss on the cheek
in the nip of first frost
woolen the warmth
given your arms around
