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 shaken by an earthquake of sighs. Outside the veranda, where fingers tap gaily, a slow cool rain drifts down.