padding up to the great bonfire all the small beasts had lighted to make the dark n the cold go away
had a feeling the hill was thronged with people never caught sight of anybody
many times much later hed a dream about how hed felt that 3rd triumphant time
only the snout bore some resemblance
the ice sagged heaved n sank again n every now n then thundered the canon salute of festivity n destruction sent delightful cold thrills up her back
the guests bowed to the sleeping family n obligingly rolled themselves up in carpets n tablecloths the smallest ones went to sleep in caps
manifesting as clarke his feetre fast zip down the wkt spring back n hammer the most glamorous of pulls to the fence claras nothing but feet