Little Dipper

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constellations,

                   grand in design,

fail to predict

                  weather changes

no more portentous

than yarn hung at the window

             wet if raining

             white in snow

the sky clouds, unfit

for gazing

across the room

your eyelids shutter

set behind the coffee steam of paper nights

in corduroy

and slipper

wind scattering eraser shreds