All things that live will die Restless birds, a clouded sky Sense the titan, fear to elope Flee through swamps with breath and rope This shape that likes to watch No eyes, no beak, just grudge My breath, my light, the thrill It finds, it hunts, it kills This shape that seems to wait With its branches, shadows, feathers, its bait Like a doll made of vines Heart of opal, hair of ice