I opened a pack of wolves.
Fur white as icing, they surged
through the office, staring and sniffing
with almond eyes and chocolate noses.
Flicking the crisp points of their ears,
they crunched across keyboards
dunked their paws in tea mugs
snapped gingerly at power cords.
Then, at the call of distant snows,
they took the lift and left, behind them just
a sugar dust of hair on carpet tile.
Next time I'll get custard creams.