Made of light in little strands
Finer than a thread of hair—
Tie it in a not, wrap it in your hands,
Give it as a gift or, if you dare,
Set it in a silly box
That serves you like a toy.
Mix it with some salt, spin your clocks,
And lean into the world of joy
That you’ve become. Now, there you go.
You’re a pretty little lass
Composed of fire and snow,
Lighting up the world’s looking glass
While we make indifferent conversation.