Visage

Warm glazed sunrise through frost on glass
That views the lawn's faint white traced grass
Then 'cross the road and through the trees
Trunks brown shoed with fallen leaves

Going hushed, collar up, hands in pockets
Cold solitude feeling somehow worth it
I've a wandering soul too long kept home
Here tethered though I've longed to roam

[The sphere of men's a strangling coil, ever tightening
I should've gone rambling, a wilding, a viking
Tossed the dice, cut ties and bonds for room to grow
Loosed the stasis of things to follow the flow]

Leaves crunch, along more deer track than trail
The sound seeming hangs in the cold like a veil
As I wend my way round thicket and bramble
On this ramble, the dayspring's chance gamble

Within the cowl of breath's white plume
Neath the fade of moon's wane lume
To wander chill hour from dark to dawn
With thoughts my own to ponder on

At length a border, the beyond I shant go
A slow, brown, shadowed, near silent flow
A still dreaming stream and there I pause
As if to weigh now against what was

Standing the verge as dark to day yields
Darkling stream coursing 'twixt wood and field
Gazing the fallow which lies beyond
Frosted, fair sparkles with the dawn

Even in quiet hours some questions still burn
Unspoken naw, and desperately yearn

(And I wondered)

Which ethereal pow'r dipped quill in night
Our earthly fortunes among stars to write
Spun changling seas of emotional thread
Tied moon to tides, and darkness to dread
Hammered out earth of star dust and ice
What cause first sparked the breath of life
And if life's born of earth and sea
Where in wandering might love to be