The wild-haired boy on the platform
is reinventing civilization
with two yards of used curtain

and a stare. The kinglet
is reconfiguring the stark,
mid-winter tree. Crown of ruby,

hair of gold. Bold outline
of unforeseeable design: the honey bee.
The honey locked in its comb:

a sign. What does it say
in the book of life about life
sweetened, packaged, sold?

It says crown of ruby.
It says hair of gold. Behold,
it says, the kids roughed-up

with flounce and rainbow glitter.
Their gauges are stuck
in the forward position.

Like a maelstrom of feathers,
they don’t know any better.
They come bearing proof of the gods.