Be as beautiful as your verse. When I traveled to Winsome Castle, I did not love you at first, until your look, your texture, your smell materially lifted me from my material hell.
In the beginning of winter, weighed down by the investigation, I feared the cold roads, the cold temperatures invading the house. But gradually I appreciated the heat calmly given to the mouse, fussing in the quick birds, suet-fed, hissing domestically in the fat carbon industry.
I wrapped my mind around the reality of endless electricity, and how we find a way eventually. Winsome Castle is where they snuggle repeatedly. There isn't much to say but that it gets done beneath a cold sky hovering beneath a frozen sun--- my verse chose that, not "golden sun," and I will always choose that, my sensibility waking to the close proximity and boredom of us all. We ordered the parts, they came, we rigged something up, and wouldn't you know it, it impressed them all.
