IMPROVISATION #121
TRANSFORMATION

The dawn is deserted
except for sparrows
twisted on Pine branches
who sing furiously
over this raw February day,
two shadows with shawls
at the store window
buy milk and bread
then flee into the cold,
all the earth seems
at the worst and out of sorts
after an enfolded night
of a recurrent snow
from a Northeastern blizzard
thundering in the silky sky
with a gloomy repose,
only the laughter of children
is heard by a bardic poet
and a neighboring somnambulist
by their narrow cottage rooms
others having a hundred dreams
labor under a narrow first light
from their closed attic windows
by a burning fireplace
after watching others
at their racing shadows
play bocce and soccer
and other sports.