its slip and sprawl,
my morning grazes the nighing palms of summer;
the dulled hour of azure
conquering the slow curvature of our entire.
Seisms evince offer to glean among this scape's flesh,
as our urnal drag bodies the assails of mutability.
Siring nuance, ambages loosen to perpendicularity
lending ascent...
To the stalled fume whose flood structures cypress
as we behold this aspect's clench.
Of its weaving of seasons,
we are time;
celebrants of its secret.
© Christopher Brandon Lancaster
