That gracious meet

Of whistling woos.

Oh yearning quivers

Filled by pursing riverruns.

To question tines 

Now posed by

Both feather jacks.

To know their times

Laid surged in an infinite.

When chilled, the

Bloom of a furnace.

When blue, the 

Touch of a trusting nose.

Tumbles in a blaze 

Of primal silence.

Heaven ever caged,

Yet frolicking without.

Wanders in a pit

And a stone hand to warm.

Asurance in a flume

And deliverance unto it.

Clew to connect,

Forces of a cloth,

Ever tender in their

Strains.

Forever knowing

In the absence of maroon

Embraces.

Harnesses to howls,

Ticks for better plays,

Ever arrowed in their

Painted solaces.

These nights to 

Court the days

And still sweet

Burrows bind.

Jostled as the 

Clubbing winds.

Together as an

Egging blossom.

Where the wheats

perspire overtured.