The sky, a tidal sea, speeds by;
high winds ruffle and tumble clouds,
split by crow and gull flight.

At the edge, a piece of birch bark falls
passing sunshafts that penetrate the wood.
Strung in silence, thin webs flash
like neon tubes from tree to tree.

Flapping of a cardinal’s rose-brown wings
and I resume my evening revelry.

Barefoot on the brown cold ground
I dance the invisible dance of mayflies.

Mutations of dreams arise.

Now!    Moonless night —
spread across leaf and branch.