The aim perhaps is subtle but definite; stillness ranks
With movement on the whole within the meme, the which,
Veering, requires another theme to skip a stitch,
To drop a construct, to choose a periodic thread, and thanks
To disarray and latent platitudes in praise of change,
The pattern lifts but pixels from the norm.
In the riot of the autumn’s recent rites no natural lights delight the worm.
Winter underwrites his monikers as souls inhale the breadth and range
Of what it means to be and then to cease to be.
Noted, then. Stamped, enshrined
Within the season’s sudden enterprise, his damp surprises seduce the eyes
Beyond the overture, the other side of icy particles in cloudless skies
Above the object and goal of vision and all the mind’s attempts to fly.
Whether creatures of the night or day, the need is always there
To see the next redefined immaculate conception, a codicil of beauty in the air.