The blackbirds

have discovered that you

have removed

ice tarpaulin from frozen bath.

~

First, the female –

rust-stained, black silk-tufted,

flusters with skirts, addresses her toilette,

satisfied, plunges in,

then frantic fan dances, beak

and breast upthrust, Moulin Rouge-pert.

Her winds dark blur,

launch strings of fine pearls, then,

she's gone –

leaving feather flotsam.

Instantly, He's in –

speed bathing, feverish,

beak lifted, pinky-stiff as if assessing aperitif,

hmmm,

good year for ice wine,

as for champagne immersion –

swanky refreshment.