of The Inn of Stormy Nights
Listen in silence within creases of dust,
dance on fingers of light
dreams through open windows.
Sing in songs between the hours
tocked by two brass hands
and a numbered face.
Watch in shadows under the sky
thrown across quilted blankets
starlight through glass jars.
A tree grows up from infinity. It branches out in cotton puffs of green. Which drop snow over lemonade. Until sorrow overturns the season to pink petals. Which land on the fox’s nose. Who sneezes. Each drops with purpose to the moss floor. They strike a long path through the tangled wood. Shielded …