on a cold December, just before dawnnnas the sun said hello to the skynnthe mantis prayed while the lamellicorn tumbled and rolled in a threadbare tiennnnthe holland lops in the Karakung glades indignantly thumped their feetnnand hopped away when they cut their noses on the sharp-tipped blades nn(since the grass doesn't mind in the least)nnthe heat pad waiting in the chicken-wire hutch where the does from the netherlands staynnbut that dry alfalfa don't taste like much and we're tired of the timothy haynn(hey)nnnni touched her back, she was lying face downnnthe dew turned to frost in her eyesnnme and sister margaret in the pentagon lawn with our wrists in a plastic tiennwhile the rats by the tracks on these winter days seeking shelter from the coldnnmake a nest in the traps of our various ways that they can save their immortal soulsnnnnoh no, timothy haynnoh no, timothy haynnoh no, timothy haynnoh no, timothy haynnoh no, timothy haynnoh no, timothy haynnplease no more timothy haynnno more timothy haynnoh no, no more timothy haynnoh no, no more timothy haynnoh no, no more timothy haynnno more timothy haynnnncold december, just after dusknnas the sun bid its cordial goodbyesnnwe get split to pieces like an apple core husk to reveal the tree that's been hidden insidennwe're a sapling caught in a tattered sirah at the seams from the shepherd's purse-beltnnbroke the news to mom: we found a better Mom we call G-d (which she took quite well)nnwhat a beautiful G-d, what a beautiful G-d, what a beautiful G-d there must be!nnwhat a beautiful G-d, what a beautiful G-d, what a beautiful G-d there must be!nnwhat a beautiful G-d, what a beautiful G-d, what a beautiful G-d there must be!nnwhat a beautiful G-d, what a beautiful G-d, what a beautiful G-d You must be!