A GERMAN BIRTHDAY
In the first dusting of snow,
The morning sun burns
The shape of the cross-brace
Under the hood of every car.
The lead crow decides again
For the other two —
Those oak crowns high enough to see
Yet another pill of foil
By which to steer,
Which shines in the grass.
To have one makes an eagles.
With one wingbeat
I’ll catch up,
The wind opening
The great boxed set of nine.

James Reidel