I am the funny old man who comes into your yard and

redistributes your belongings amongst strangers.

I eat your snowmen. I fill your mouth with sand and

stuff ash into your eyes.

I am the nasty girl who slams your door and rips down

curtains. I laugh in your face and you strain to see me,

but you are blind.

I am the witch who tosses dry leaves in your face and

stabs your lungs with daggers of ice.

I am the sorcerer who blows sweet cooling kisses

when you need them the most.

I am your laundry boy who scents your linens with

dreams and shreds your banner.

I am the fat kid who bends your bough and the

babysitter who casts a spell on your baby.

I am a transparent metaphor.

I rattle your windows and make you

roll this way and that at night.

I cool your soup and mix ash with your tears.

I am he who always was; long before a word

 was passed between animal lips.

I am he who spreads seeds and juggles tumble weeds.

I am he who breaks snow into rivers.

I am he who rock-a-byes a good night.

You think you hear me moan your name.