Head North,
From choking summer tyranny,
Fade to fresh darkness
Where the night wind rings like bronze,
Forlorn,
Lonely ship's rigging swing.

The world is saturated,
Echoing with water.
Garments are channels,
Guiding young torrents
Smooth to their drowning earth.

Face empty to the crushing sky,
Eyelids smothered by those cold tears,
Human burns numb,
Scoured out of me.
Tree boughs rage at the glass onslaught,
Their sad hearts are still.