Last nightthey came my horses. Grey, withbright white manes; the seaa moonlit mirror. I walkedthe sand a gentle breeze,my hand entwined in lion’s mane. Last nightthe shadows set me free,& I, a Circecome again wove spellsfrom moss & called the namesof creatures great & small. This morning’ssun is hot with life, it blazes onmy lemon tree, but I preferthe shaded night to walk insilence spirit led while other’sdream.