And then, the after glow of ambient archangels
bellow below the brickwork borderline,
causing cars to creep carefully.
Days draw dark,
even the ever-green entities
fading faces fall fast,
and Gaia grows gooseflesh and gazes
happily at the houses she holds.
Icicles infiltrate indefinite islands,
jigging around on jagged jaws
or knobbly knees,
like they're listening to learn of
men and more.
Now night nestles
over open oceans
and plunges pockets of people into
quaffles of quizzical
rodents, running for roasting rooms
and soft surfaces to sit on.
Tales are told to tiny toddlers,
under umbrellas of ultraviolet until
various vessels
wish them well,
xyloid xylophones play
years of yule-tide melodies,
as Z's zoom in zig-zags to the Zodiac above.
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