A solar sliver flashes off the hanging chimes,
snow pockets fall from a maple squirrel highway,
imprints the ground, abominable foot.
Morning snares my nostrils,
detergent draped vapours,
and I wish for a warmer clime.
Playful chickadees squeak and scurry
while waves of flakes float by,
and in the glory of that subtle moment,
as smooth as a Van Morrison song,
free and easy like the saxophone wind,
the dark noises stopped.
copyright@pcapitano2020
WILDsound Festival 