This is regret： or a ferret. Snuffling，
stunted， a snout full of snow.
As the end of day shuffles down
the repentant scurry and swarm-
an unstable contrition is born.
Bend down. Look into the lair.
Where newborn pieties spark and strike
I will make my peace as a low bulb
burnt into a dent of snow. A cloth to keep me
from seeping. Light crumpled over a hole.
Why does the maker keep me awake？
He must want my oddments， their glow.