When contrasted with the rain of yesterday
a snowy morning has more to say (even when it's almost may)
there we are at cracking dawn (or did we miss it, birthing fawn)
yes we colder grayish pawns, hidden under white are lawns
why is not a question that one asks on a morning such as this
and what as a question is also not quite it; the senses suggest an eyesight kiss
from a molded chair in plantlight, I drink this coffee and scatter hindsight
is it quiet with the windows shut or are my ears lost in the light
either or's have something hidden: multiplicity overridden
snow drops color shaded bidden, but blues and yellows burst out smitten
musts and have-to's won't be smelled, on cold damp air a scent is held
desert dreams aren't near this place, but heaven's tears are frozen lace.
Roman Ryan 