the shade-feathered one,
a yawning dragon in the fall night,
lifts her moss-matted head,
and lets loose a misty howl.
the fog spills out from her ravine.
lit by streetlamps,
it crawls across sidewalks,
and peeks into lit windows.
lungs are soothed by her breath, and
still-animal minds reminded gently:
all their science
cannot kill the spirits,
all their knowledge
cannot kill the unknown.
