(ŠAppendix Out 1999)

from the norse air to the loam,
pulsing, breathing animals roam
wisping ghosts in hidden lairs,
huge wings creaking in the air

from your tarry slumber pass,
tilt ye to the window glass
vaulted prehistoric moon,

frosty stars are loosely-tuned
fog comes
to the grey havens
swan ships sail
from the grey havens