A winsome weave, simple and real,
Warp and weft—a tight twill,
A weaverbird's nest—strong and snug,
With soft crossways and tumphy tug.
...
A legendary dark, so thick,
A corrosive smog to my young eyes that itched,
My kid-glove skin crawled like the parasitic tick,
It felt as though my whole system glitched.
...
The nights were short,
A clear summer, long and hot,
A chickadee visited every dawn,
And caught a stunning view by the pane.
...