they’ve crept away from play to hibernate
– through night, through day – and secretly they’ve kept
their winters warm, with dreams to navigate.
These gnomish cities’ citizens don’t snore—
and do they mumble in their slumbers? No!
They’re silent, still and easy to ignore
and soundless as a cavalcade of snow.
But when I slipped amidst their sleepy selves,
lined side by side like bookish shelves, I found
them far and wide: a colloquy of elves
tucked-in beneath a quilted snowstorm’s mound
with rooftop shingles for their mattress slats
and dangling heads in icicles for hats.
