I love the way snow defines
contours of hidden beauties
usually escaping our eye
in the daily breeze-by
to somewhere else

The louvers on the shutters,
now wearing snowy edges,
dash out a visual staccato
like a jazz progression
as my eyes bump over
each perfect shape

White islands hang onto tilted
chairs that lean against
the fence crazed with intrigue,
flawed with weathered
scars mapped with snow

My eyes move an erratic flight
like a cat hunting an insect
that flew into the house
I zig-zag through the textured
mesh of shapes and
connecting lines, seeing
all the snow laden abstractions,
half there, half covered
in powdery disguise

Surely jazz rose up in response
to the nature of all things revealed
in fragmented concert like this
And artworks were constructed,
inscribed and painted
in response to moments
from our temporal world
and shifting relationships

Thanks to art makers
who create legacies
of perceptions such as these,
to revisit again and again.

These thoughts reassure me
that not all will disappear in
the glare of the snow-melting sun