Our dreamscapes sprout from winter trees, easy

Especially after we drink from goblets that have known many a mouth,

Under crystalline canopies, mind your head

  We listen for caged birds that sing (and isn’t that just the audacity of hope?)

All the while we whisper: "Here, kitty kitty, who’s the proud poodle now?"

  Click, click, boom and hope to rope what our memory can’t (because this is present tense)