with AA

just round the corner
of second and fiftyninth
near stone bridges
and curling brooks
a scottish girl is singing
waking lullabyes

her voice clear as the morning
gold as grass shining in the dew

from under rocks
and stumps of trees
flash bright red vests
and tiny coattails
dashing between things

the morning fair cracking
with enchantment and magic
as the plaintive voice
carols on
and the wee men
conjure snow from the sky