depth and steam, not quite
gleaming, under teddy bear cocoa
and snow-globe crocuses. Surrounded
in, over, around the bristles of
dromedary bliss, kiss the odd,
laughing fountain with yesterday's dew.
Alarming, but truly, there is very little
else to do. Far away the taffy machine's
arms roll and rotate, a childish dance
geared toward hedghogs and
buttered toast, almost, not quite all
the way to Valentine's Day. Follow,
and joy quickly blooms like concord
grape jelly in your mouth.
(c) 2013, by Hannah Six
Photo: James Field