nightencover

In molten velvet mountains
I stole’d on towards the nightencover
branchy crackles!
owly downing!
thrushing covers!
silken linens rivelled over: writhing under
streaming fogways – burbles babbling
how sweet
and strange
the ancient oakens stand
a gaze or two or three
benounced my footaways away
me; downwards greenly
slip serenely
more waltz than amblers
in leaves it seems

take up arms take up legs!
if not for the sake of your being –
better for the molten velvet mountains
of our progenitors