In fraud, his actions did comport
with loyalty of a kinsman’s heart.
Such fealty that none could shame,
outdo, or prove Fierce Wind a sham.

Yet, in her thoughts, the Sun did gloom;
her husband’s fate shone in a dream:
a crumb in a drum, of ruin, of dust:
a wolf in a lamb, to skin a host.

Of such portent, she warned with haste
her love, Sky, of her fitful rest.
But Wind rooked Sky of trust in Sun
and cozened folly from the sane.