ln the flicker of on eyelid frost strikes,
the current cuts out
and we are stuck in а dark elevator
like pips in apples, like stones in plums.
Roads, cars, parking lots, skips full of rubbish
are completely choked by howling snow.
Hare-brained drivers whizz by constantly, naked
at the edge of our minds.
But all at опее winter breaks
under the first ripple, the first wave of your еуеѕ
curving up from а forest’ ѕ green to sky-blue.
Тhе world goes about its business
Тhе elevator is going down. ln it let’s
laugh: Уеѕ! me and you.