Across the street from Seanhenge, a Christmas elf named Wolfram moved in at the beginning of December.
|He has not yet been seen,
but he writes regularly, and often traces
of his highly varied nocturnal activities
|The other day he was told in a letter
that the writer's grandfather
had cooked him a portion of rice, and ...
|. . . that she, the letter writer,
hoped Wolfram would relish it.
|And yes, it did taste, Wolfram wrote,
but asked for indulgence that unfortunately
he did not quite manage
to entirely eat the huge portion.
I would not let a tiny T spoil an avantgardistic alliteration.