the telephone rings
i choose not to answer

my window is large
the world passes
in fragments
for my contemplation

three small birds
sheltering from the winter storm
sleep under the seam of my awning
i close the window
and wake them.
now one of them watches me
while the other two sleep.

i daydream tranquility
while snowflakes fall
slow, white pennies
and jazz sings next to my soul

children impress angels
in the snow


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