Our winter crows
wear tumescent cowls

Their stares bleep our
smoke detectors. Now,

it's chic to check,
before, it was cool

to carry on. Snow.
Ice. Toboggan. Rum.

At the Pine Pageant,
leftist ravens thin

the backstage shindy.
We suggest a bar

but our cells are
vibrating. Our kids

bleat. Our rubbers
crunch. Our mufflers

get vertical. Owl.
Mouse. Raccoon. Bear.

The old world crèche
has reemerged

like a bomb from
a Dutch trading bulb.

When the piebald
earth opens, an ass

will bloom. Our codes
disarm alarms from

tolling. Rum. Owl.
Ice. Bear. Snow. Mouse.