Carved out of night
the lone sky watcher stands
directed in the maze ahead.

Caught between rook and pawn

the queen
settles in her honeycomb of tears,
bends through squash blossoms
to touch a snail,
pale against sifted sky and sand.

A thought hums down the wires
blasting into position
by an earthquake of sighs.
Outside the veranda,

where fingers tap gaily,
a slow cool rain drifts down.