Seven dragons cross the sky their breath is hot against the wind seven dragons, serpents all calling out across the universe
It’s the full life of winter’s blustery height ice and flurry and sharp-scented cold could be mistaken for nature’s call to death but it’s character, soft landscape, chill flame.
Did I meet you in that little shop where the book of love is kept behind the counter? Impossible except our names are there
Father, I watch you poised beside the bed trembling against your metal walker gathering strength for the grand move to the dressing table across the room.