I
Snow catches the sun,
casts it through clouds onto mountaintops,
its golden pillars raising high a domeless palace
grand with ice and vast space.
II
Thunderstorms dissipate,
plant shining shafts through blackness,
erect teepees over plains, hills and rivers.
Wheat stands straight again.
III
Sunset divides
hanging blossoms of sky
into columns of red and gold rising from the sea.
The tides do not disturb them.
IV
Through these temples of light
move joyfully,
children of darkness.