We are becoming trees /// frozen in
The basement of December. Horizons
Of naked limbs, chattering like teeth +++
On grey air. A piano plays some
Blurred memory 1, silvering the
Dusk to sleep. Snow falls from the
Dark like stars but it is nothing that
We can keep. Out of a stump ()
stumbles the red fox. On and off
He goes all night >< >< >< ><