I want only to drink this deep and pitchy night

And sigh away lost within the voiceless wood

Leaning against a swaying birch hoping that I might

Capture the lost note of the lonely owl

Before the dawning’s light.

If you glance through the myriad of trees

That crowd like arms of voiceless shadow

The watercolor morning’s seeping breeze

Will hold your gaze; the clear wash-hue of seas.

And shall you lock your eyes in the ever-stare,

Not heeding the caresses of the dusk?

What blemish of the light could one bare?

That is, until you find

It isn’t there.

Snaking arms envelope; they hum

Like the hornet in her snappish might.

The breathy world beyond is numb

To creeping in this land of night.