(1)

In a distant, distant nook,
There stands a house to look.
Where patient observers stay,
They use the scopes day by day.

Study footprints of birds in the snow,
Decoding scripts that never meant to show.
(2)

Along the coastline,I tread,
Through halos streetlights softly spread.
Completing rituals we've known,
All designed trilogies there shown,
Knowingly we proceed instead,
Into tales where only stars are fed.

(3)

From heights above,
unforeseen a white sock falls,
Like a shrimp of crystal sheen,
Descending with grace,
Replacing street lights' gleam,
In bridge tunnels where snow convince.

(4)

We had been watched, // not by the eyes.
In this era's script we’ve already read.

Time accumulates high,
Like branches reaching the blue sky.
And birds stay there // will never say goodbye.