It’s snowing on the TV
I leave it on for company
sometimes I see shapes come and go
like hurricanes and blizzards
and angels in the snow
intensifies and fades
drifting to and fro
in olden times a fire
where sparks turned into creatures
may have prophesied the future
but all I have are strange shapes on the TV
and the light from my computer
Are we happier now the way things are
and what about the future?
my fingertips are cold
bad circulation
I occupy myself
but deep inside I know
that want to shed my solemn cloak that shields me
then run out and make angels in the snow.