Snap! Attune and pivot, Eloquence bespeaking muscled escape, A whirling melee of grace, spryly Sprung over tumbled bramble, Leave me humbled, witness to their Flick! Like a tide washing itself uphill Ten times the white, condensed and Tailed in tiny white flames, In ermined retreat, Gone! They crashed when I startled, sighting them. Dun on dun in the decaying golden last glance Of a January, past.