Soon, they will wake, the earlybirds,
and find the city tranquil, void
of all the audience and worlds
which, in its halls, they enjoyed
until last night, when, winding down,
their wave of programming collapsed
on the shore of this Laurentian town,
at the final fête, now elapsed.
In the fall of Perseid's night,
all rockets launched, each mapled base,
auroras seen, with sidewise sight,
and masks set aside, in boreal space.
When paint-stripping or baking, keep in mind:
anticipation ends in daily grind.