The horizon folded down its blackness.
Overhead curled exalted green clouds
of Sun-born particles spiraling in.
Now upward in an arc, tied to the long invisible armature of the Pole,
flew my humble cardboard tube of Earthly minerals,
in one moment transmuted into circlets and spheres of sparks —
dark materials achieving by dint of effort
glory surpassing the Sun’s electrons,
if only for a second.
Hood thrown back I howled a warning to low-flying angels.
The dogs lay panting in the snow, unimpressed.