Glazunoviana

        The man with the red hat
	And the polar bear, is he hear too?
	The window giving on shade,
	Is that here too?
	And all the little helps,
	My initials in the sky,
	The hay of an arctic summer night?
	 
        The bear
	Drops dead in sight of the window.
	Lovely tribes have just moved to the north.
	In the flickering evening the martins grew denser.
	Rivers of wings surround us and vast tribulation.