Final ritual.
From the collection Various Artists (2019)

A great silver shines across the tall brush—
Crickets chirp, invisible amongst the grasses,
Along with humid whispers, 
Looming in the westward warm winds,
As deep as sighs.

Simply a crescent—
It glints across the tall ruins of
Withering woodstuff, moss, rats and such,
Scuttling past the drip-drops of wayward

All join hands, come quick—
Bare foot atop mud, worm & mole,
Dancing in circular frenzies, beneath the sky
Clear, black and virginal—
Clasp the Bane, trace the beat.