between the windowframes, how
the sky was phrased; affixed
and the young aryas, pollen
trickling over the wind. Later we
gathered by the hearth, talking
of winter and the
precedent; how the sun had
bled, golden, on the window
sills and the
leaves; and how winter
then followed. A boy
outside in the snow
and his dog made
spirographs or snow angels, laughing
to the dead leaves and
God, and the feral
cats are holding a
Christmas pageant