At dawn, a golden spider climbs
a blue wall; as the day goes on
he slowly descends to sleep
inside the permafrost.
At night, an arctic fox in her winter coat
curls on her side on the black ice—
a crescent; as the days go by she relaxes,
her shining silver tail covering
her soft nose—a circle.
The eyes of wolverines light the tundra,
shining stars low on the horizon,
searching for shudders of movement,
scenting the warmth of small rabbits,
of slow or injured birds—
they are hungry.