A quiet reach, white rushes, petals and bark peeling back to show the argent skin beneath. The Winter lingered, resisting the pressures of time and change, refusing to we gave way to planting. We moaned, understanding, prepared for germination, readied the ground and forest. Field standing wet and alone as the wind punishes all that give it reason.

Icicle eyelids and beard frozen tight to mustache. Cheeks of leather sadness and frost. Eyes beyond recognition of this lazy desert harshness. Looking for realms that few knew and even less ventured. Passages well lit and furnished with colored tarp and signets, florets and caramelized portraits. Nothing sloppy about great wealth, no mistakes in planning.

Tears refusing to flow as if frozen solid to memories that could not be forgotten, paralyzing hope in heart of mule and master. Cannot become that which you never made us, spoken slowly in description, too little to breed familiarity only whet the curiosity of cats and ministers. Leaving all the chance we blessed the harmonious union and walk away.

Dancing in fantastic vision, sung to life by sonnet with crimson and Torrie pine. Wrapped in soliloquy and suggestion we fed the lions of dessert and dream, lost to all logic, guest and admiration. Long silent pause as in words of forgotten meaning, explaining the whisper beyond imagination, technically adequate with emotions beyond eclipsing moments.

To talk so cheap, class, station and blood line forgotten, the realm of happenstance and chaos. Cobalt signalling the dawn on blued horizon as the fires of morning awaken beyond the silken black. Angry torch and fiery darts of treachery seeking to devour every molecule, wave and plasma. In captivity lost to amber and vermilion, festive in the purple-hearted.