The role of Stone is that of Ice
But seeks a slower sun.
To Synapse, stealth Invisible,
Concision to the Bone.
The praying hands of branches bared
By Wind, this season’s Star,
Implore — insensate, arrogant —
As snowflakes formed in Fire.
Above our church a fist of smoke
Diminishes all Blooms
Within that Park where Prayers revolve
On a Carousel of tombs.