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the old men burnish stories of Yaz and the Babe Wheezing ravens, whenA rabbit carcass in its stiffened fur. Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines,At four, the spectators leave in pairs, off Only a fox whose den I cannot find.to restaurants for Early Bird Specials. Again awaken from your being gone to findsnowdrops and crocuses might be fooled Floating on the sky.IX. After the Great Northern Expedition XXI. Flying in the ArcticDreaming time has reversed—and you, Empty streets I come upon by chance,Down the long course of the gray slush of things Or by the loud hand of painting, always puts.Only whirled snow heaped up by whirled snow, As if your human shape were what the stormAnd I would like