a new squeeze

 the night came stumbling into frames

legions of light pouring smokelike forms

shapes became the pre world storms

 right under a nose of northern origin

winds wrestled about for the reason doubts

 rolling forward in the resting squirms

the river bends as pure becomes sold 

what dance of vagrant campfire smell is this

 left behind to catch the windy breeze

but just in time to design a new squeeze

tis' the ryhme of a tree on the wind

as the leaves collide to a dancing sound