BETWEEN WORLDS
In the middle of the light cone from the streetlight is
a forgotten bandy ball, glowing like a fixed star
against the snowbank.
Somewhere out there, the huge maple trees are
swaying. Black, cracking branches rubbing against
the plaster and tile roofs.
The child goes slowly around in the circle of light,
while steam rises from his hot mouth.
Far inside the darkness, can he see his
kitchen window shine like a snow lantern.
