Purple twilight silver glimmers

passing like a moment in the moonlight on the run.

Tuesday fades to Saturday,

from there progressing downwards

'till me and Thursday drift away and dance into the sun.

-

Yellow rivers yellow quivers

hanging, dew-drop-daffodil, a little South of what you mean.

The adjective has faded to a mere conjunctive harmony

trapped in paged-caged words

and Friday's somewhere inbetween.

-

A year has passed in golden-grass

Full three-six-five with every spectrum-length and short

old aquintance be forgot sometimes, move up the tempo

to this unforgiven cacophony

of ringing bells, drawn out in their retort.