Story book strange this light
full moon grey silver wash
subtle features like part formed
images in the fixing tank in days
when pics emerged underwater
their shapes and hints of form
dancing reaching out to your
pre-determined archetypal view
a world as you thought it should
be even before it became
reality. Out there in strange land
in dogwatch time surely there are
rabbits nibbling and scratching
was that a whiff of fox breeze,
quanda must be nosing into
lately manicured raked lawn in
oblivion to outside worlds full of
overblown egos like blimps all
tugging at their ropes waiting to
be pierced or shown in the cold
misty light of morning as figments
like these words composed in hope
rekindled fire might burst into flame
casting a new light yellow flickers
a different light breaking silence
sticks crackling transformed into
smoke carbon chimney rising
questions balance being changed
new illusions of discourse frogs
silenced in surprise the quiet
symphony coming to a close.