No sooner awake
than were
his ears suddenly—pierced to feel
warmed strangely!
by
the delirious cry—of a lone gull
doubtless startled
but
by turns—elated
and crowing—perhaps
to her lagging and
dappled companions—regarding
reasonably—
the smell
of fecund alley trash;
which, by now—must be!
rising in tandem
with that invisible weight
of the world's
nearest kind
preposterous yellow star—in radiant plumes
not yet
of warm—but of milder
cold air,
each one
just quietly
exhausting—the tired
premise of another
endless winter.
