hourglass flips I’m on my way to dormiveglia. sage smoke vespers propel my orenda, a shimmer globe, among cloud trails. scavenging flotsam from former scales and jetsam tossed to eddies, I’m adrift in mother night’s owl-winged domain. golden harvests of ageless symbols; chits — gathered fruit of querencia tree Dormiveglia – (n.) the space that…