The stage is set with driven snow
and gothic trees unworthy of note six days and a dozen passes on.
But above the purest mound of storm-brought snow, a creature dark
A creature dense and low
A creature more stoic than any man
puts on a slow exhibit of passion.
Limber. She gestures and sways with the bulky wind,
Neither noticing nor caring about an audience. Just
Dancing. Like Cruella’s spindly fingers upon sighting fur.