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A frost of glittering speckles fleck the green Expanse of thin, fibrous blades with capsule- Bodied insects stretching their thread-legs clean From the crystalline freeze. A gauzy tulle Of cool air, dimly dyed by uncertain Coloured light, is propelled across the warm Nooks and cold branches alike. A light burn Tickles the cheeks of those who fumbled, torn Between morality and loneliness In the antiseptic clarity of Life outside the field, but within, found less. Here, they are thick, insulated wires of Feeling, pulsing like everything else, on The mother’s board – a field – a pasture – a con.
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