Panoramic arctic beauty,
vernal thimbles gleam through
winter white cloud pillows,
downy filled by tiny snowflakes.
"There's a hole there!"
William, Percy, John, and Sam look upon Lord
who will not hear of it being sewn shut.
Turning up the music, Lord stands, says,
"We shall intimate ourselves again, gentlemen."
His eyes soft,
playful.
He picks up the cloud and shakes it
into the spirit hands covered with thimbles
sewing beauty blankets
to drop soft and slow from the sky.
Freeze frame
the music stops
a roof cracks
cold breath finds small paws
that lead to nothing
it's a shallow pan, man
and the trees,
crystal laden, heavy,
are romantically beautiful
and insane.
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