Cold In Beauty Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Cold in beauty

They played majestic
-on tightrope, climbing
-and running and hiding.

Fireballs in their eyes
-showed Satan after light
-as if the Lucifer.

But their firs were ugly
-traces of the hands of babies;
-in times thin, as if balled
- (by aging!)

Now with cold in the air
-their thick firs shine bright.

Squirrels look nice, sharp.

This takes me to time when
-told me Russian friend:
- "There are farms to raise them;
-keep them cold, feed them well
-and then kill, skin them,
-while still are too young
-to sell fir as the Mink
-that brings them money
-and women wear fir coats
-decorate to sell off…"