i have never seen those things and they are just extraordinary.
(…) The snow drifts low
and yet neglects to cover me, and I
dance just ahead to keep my heart in sight.
How like a queen, to seek with jealous eye
the face that flees you, hidden city, white
swan. There’s no art to free me, blinded so.
A City Winter, by Frank O’Hara, 1951