The Winterkins

Nose wrinkle varmints in the snow, 
twitching like whiskers
of an avalanche..
chirping moon songs
with a mouth full
of tundra.

Snoots in the under stars.

where the peat moss
is on some kind of
fire.

II

Blue has crept into all beds,
our windows perched in
northerly winds
with our cats 
lap prone
and our blankets
Normandy

III
Ah. the winterkins 
and how very much
they know
me.