the palms of winter are pressing now

the wind has lost its fiery vow

the flames are smoke

the water ice

and you have left this deep crevice

i keep finding between my bones

the summer doors are closing now

and memory is folding how

the day welds in 

and becomes a thin

wedge of life 

and now we wake into a newer dream

and flow into this seamless stream

(that will not mend) 

of discovery that all our odds and ends

will be taken by the storms