movement of flies

attend the manner that the mountain breeze

has shaken many needles to the road

they look like symbols of an arcane code

fallen beneath the old brown willow trees

some pattern of the light might have to please

one hurrying to reach his warm abode

as symbol of the meaning that was owed

although we learn there are no guarantees

words on the ground leave nothing to the air

not even recollection that they passed

mere indications of improper shape

that might in time mean more if we would dare

risk what is signified by one huge cast

or give up hope that any could escape