Dreaded horned Ahmhuluk hid with black folded wings in an ice cave west of Hill Hook while the red sun set sings into a blue ocean of rings. With Simone de Beauvoir in wearisome repose by our lonesome campfire as the dark night will close with gentle arms & guelder rose. A forgotten sadness falls from distant Betelgeuse. The silver full moon stalls by a ghost of a rose lost long ago. I awoke to the calls of a grey haired woman in a flowing red dress her great beauty to me befalls.