waves roll in, tossed over themselves
by November winds that scrape
surface up and over, up and
over, coil under clouds,
moan through cedars,
find me here, damp,
burying the roots
of this sapling

as if in a ceremony of dark days,
bewitched by the sky long
turned cold and forceful,
my magic increases
in concentration —
even the birds
obey my wish,
return when
I beckon

it is in such a state that my ancient
longing and dearest friend unfolds
arms wide across all the earth
to warm those who are living
in this frozen universe
with fortnight tales
that protect each
soul with safe