A Winter Dance

Quiet November
In streets in the morning
Where the air’s ever punctual
In delivering the cold
Someone's always waiting
Perpetually ready
For the first snowflake
From nothing
To unfold
Up in the foreground
Of a neo-gothic tower
Falls lightly a feather from somewhere unknown
Inspired by this I quietly sing
Spinning thru memory, a mind overgrown

I study the meaning, taking the signs

Carry a burden that cannot be said

Fires are burning seeds we've sewn

The moon is the trees' lullaby, living dead

People are crowded in buses and hallways
Shuffling to a bell's ring the classes proceed

All that is held in the walls and the structures

Is far from the truth that a season can free

A feather still falls but surely all things
Are accompanied by more than just instants of show

So as I am witness still too many others

Track a million navigating imitations of snow
As points they are dancing, connecting the lines

An abstract creation 

For winter to raise
Quiet November
Speak your joy;

Anything that dances in the winter should be praised!