How dull
the houses were before: with no baubles, no twinkling shapes, no metallic fuzz.
Simple reflective reminders: gaudy fun: it all stands brave in the subzero
dark.
Last year, we say: the wire frame reindeer on the porch roof by the school, how
the wind laid it on its back, blinking lights, every night slumped this way or
that.
Drunk!
This year the porch sports
multi-coloured lines, a mock-ice terraced palace.
Between the gilt and flash of civilized spots, trees throw down leaves. Underneath
is such character, dancing naked at the roadside!
The car rattles down tunneled ribs, a bony esophagus of branches.
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