We are cold in the mist
We eat damp gems against the vapors
Our legs are our worship.
As we come into the season of rot
We conjure misty delusions beyond the clouds
We dream our wings.
We confound tiny demons behind the light
We dance humming forest the unleafing legs
We smear brilliant fragments among the dream.
Stop for a while
Dark and quiet beside the fog
Different smallness to our green blood.