Dismal, endless plain—<BR>
But when, on the timepieces that we callBillows the fog, cloaks
and turn it into something cartoon-funny.Figures of light and dark, these two are walking
wonders if she'd ever be brave enoughArchangel Winter, darkness on his back
Calling me to you with wild gesturingsThis perfection, this absence.
Glimmering of light:Seems reflected in the infinite of the lamps.
I've drifted somewhat from the distant heartLife, or only joy, that stands out
Dismal, endless plain—<BR>In Winter Haven, the ballplayers are stretching
Seems reflected in the infinite of the lamps.Reshaping magnified, each risen flake
Oh you builders,Like theirs ends? From what distant point of vision