No matter what went on around them, 
no matter what message the snowstorm was straining to utter; 
or how crowded they thought that wooden affair; 
or that there was nothing for them anywhere;

first, they were together. And-most-of-all-second, 
they now were a threesome. Whatever was reckoned—
the stuff they were brewing, accruing, receiving—
was bound to be split into three, like this evening.

Above their encampment, the sky, cold and idle, 
and leaning as big things will do over little, 
was burning a star, which from this very instant 
had no place to go, save the gaze of the infant.

The campfire flared on its very last ember.
They all were asleep now. The star would resemble 
no other, because of its knack, at its nadir, 
for taking an alien or its neighbor.