a fleetfox path of tiptoes
toddling into the trouble of a hazy forest
tying your tie tighter
keeping your head backwards
watching for a disturbance of the mind
Deeper, Deeper into the mountains of lover's quarrels
passing that indention written in a flight of danger
keeping close to comfort
an revengeful ledge easy riding beside your leg
Hold on, Hold on
the sound of the Whistling Caller
a voice of stinging pressure
calling you home
Don't go, Don't go
depths of deep meaning lock you in the embrace of chills
ice melting your body into nature's womb
knocking your knees in with the squatting Indian
pacing your breaths
interlocking your body
now a maze of creme swirled in with the gift of dirt
a mound of somnolence in the therapeutic song of a nightingale's forest