With anticipation, I imagine you are with
your usual entourage this week, at a
pre-party event featuring meteor showers.
Lace-winged snow clumps will spiral
downward, loosened from nimbus clouds,
just as I open the curtains in the morning.
A night of cold complete with thin
ice sheets that crackle and explode
when we walk to collect the newspaper.
Delft jays will shout from bare branches
every stalk and bent seed head will sparkle
frost sequins under the moonlight.
Finally, a shooting star will blaze when
we bring in the cat, the last thing at midnight.