We stained the wind / with our voices
had the sky protested in nebulous ache?
Evening had left us / The slithers of moon are
nervously slipping away / in ethereal trace.
Icicle stars creep / in coy / stalactite whispers.
Tumbling orb / like dew drop onto grass.
Endlessly / I am awaiting the dawn
naked / under sol's fire spun eye
delicious tongues of sun
spoonfuls / settling in the sky.