A chilled sentinel guards
the swelling earth’s outcrop
as the tumbling star inscribes
light spilled from the galaxy.
The silent forest cloisters the icy inlet
at day’s end giving refuge.
Under the aurora
the mare’s tails suspended aloft illuminate.
Ribbons of light skipping on the frozen waste
catch the fleeting day.
Dancing day and night continue the pas de deux,
watching at dusk’s portal.
I have been in that silent forest cloister. It is the center of the earth.