Aurora Borealis

The lights are quick; they shift above
these hills, the autumn ceiling tight
about its pinning Pole, then flit,
with drifts of northern gods and time
slack in their wake, across these mute
night airs. How rays weave strange tonight,
their flow a falling echo still
of One Flame dancing trim, vibrant
and wise, the full dark down! And how
their sky-wide flare, their crowning, frees
the grace, those jewelled auras soft
to lift the flawed fields' shade! And this:
the radiance - folding   folding   folding