Each morning
the Big Dipper pours winter into the woods behind our home.
Every night
Orion struts haughtily overhead
hot on the trail of constellations mammalian while
almost invisible, the Pleiades sisters giggle at him.
Beneath these ancient lights
our house is a riot of disorganized sparkles vying for attention,
the familiar to all,
Christmas Constellation.
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Swaddled in warm, expensive furs a confident middle-aged man sits claustrophobically tilted in his carriage. Rain beats down on his compartm...
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