that ethereal giant clothed by cotton and
the backlight of a billion falling stars
frozen with the depth of its slumber. coating
the ground with a white fur; melting mink
as the giant turns his back
and the wind blows in the gray, the midnight purple.
halogens flash the milky ice, turning it crystal and ruby
the ground littered with sky fire
and the night a heaven of dancing shadow.
this place is a witching hour for the mind.
a harsh sedative for excitement
like handing baking chocolate to a child.