Tempted Poem by delilah contrapunctal.... yes, that's how I intended to spell it.........

by altarlight...
to let the skein unravel....
dislooped...
......it catches
on a twig here...a pebble there....
stops, briefly,
on
a minor hill....
stargrazes
with
other ruminants,
their
visages
tamped....orderly....
some
are
on
a fen-fallen quest of solace...
tumbled...polished to translucence....

picked
a scab...or two...or a dozen....
strangely,
perhaps
not so strangely...there is no blood....
humours
run clearly
at this wayward station....
are absorbed
by
the splendidly vacillating grass....

volesters,
being
bystanders
by nature,
have gaped, smelled the air....
found
there is little
to nullify....less to feast on....
curl
into magisterial,
malleable..
if dormant... rounds....
are heard,
vestigially,
in their
loam-scented burrows,
on
their tiny three-wheelers....
little somnambulists.....pedaling...pedaling....