isoceles

the wires meet under skin
to traverse a signal to our kin
that bounces round the dome above
a message fat and limp with love
we grate and mate through waves of heat
tremulous and to a rapid beat
they glow as they pass through cloud
covers ears to block the loud
three stand in hoods to snow
listening, waiting for beacons to glow
when the night is rich and full
the land is lit like fire to wool
rolling high and falling quick
a contact drips from candled wick
a triad, quiet of what there was before
linked by fingers that reach and claw