Your surrender's enormous.

Your surrender's enormous,

Like the wolves' natural pack of hounds yet

You're tight-fisted, stout feet nimble

And calm. The tree's stem is prescient,

And the water foretells, pendent on you,

Your wraith of a face. The ting of the air:

Rare, more good than a clock's bouncing tine,

City or native land angry leaf & light.

In your side view mirror, the miller of refraction.

Time will make known gravely, the ceremonial "much."

The party can wait; the indicate creeps on.

...

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