Wistful winds

when wistful winds
rise up from concrete canyons
when water wades
from river, wood, and cloud
slowly spirit steps
across solstice threshold
where moon scythes the cold
divides the north & south
spirit paces between north & south
wanders the narrow hall of light
the door ever open, ever locked
she passes through the jambs
she pries through northern star keyhole
her foot's silhouette describes
the southern cross' mystic line

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Your correspondent is experiencing an adrenaline high, which tends to make me chattier than normal. If you'll scroll down the page, you'll note there have been some changes to "6:45 a.m."