o tiny-faced frozen velvet pill
with all four hands upraised
in that soft medieval gesture
of sorrow:
palms facing out together
o pink-footed tunneler
how regal this winter's brutal cold
has kept your blue black coat
above ground on my farm my guest you will stay
rest on grass
until spring for I know not
what to do with a body
so regal
and so little subject to decay
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