In the daft heaven of the planetarium,
stars and galaxies streaked away from us
expanding in multiples of ten
while a soothing, booming voice
spoke of space and wonder, until our minds
grew dull from numbers and din
and brilliant distraction.
Outside the museum were bare trees
in wintry light, squirrels with plump cheeks,
pale shadows of branches
on brittle snow,
and she was quiet. I loved her
infolding like this, and we walked crunching
over the snow-paths, greeting the rude
pinches of wind.
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