no embers

glows in the frozen toes, pink blood rubbing through stone wells
 thinking about a schism of the seasons
a fitness regimented slip
on the ice that will be here soon

windows left open for bees too

if of course the daylight is worth saving,
say, you say, then of course is it wicked to watch the night?

And we mush, keep the night a state of warden, a habitat for
fifty odd jobs.  this is what makes the world have confidence, bring back
the economics of octopus on our heads instead of hair, keeping the
go ahead ahead.