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.