The summer season tides with bane of artic memories;
I shall repeatedly sit on the baked sun
While I watch the ocher dissolve
Cutting dark furrows of funeral across the sky
The summer season tides with the bane of arctic memories
I shall repeatedly sit on a nippy crust
Feed on bile of sugar-coated solitude;
There will be no resolve to this brokenness
That kissed the earth from the call of this internment
But as I listened to the owl
Coo with the winter moon
The cold painted an epitaph
Of many shadows of creed by that gravestone
The weary night will shed mist of hope
By the legends of a departed Jupiter,
And arc falling hearts never to yield
But as long as the waters rub spine with the banks
The ripples will continue to rim the beach