Tangles Of Sound

All that beautiful chaos,
the falling raindrops
in multicolor percussion
shower over me each time
the saxophone starts again.
I am washed, absolved
of yesterday's tears.

My gaze flies heavenward,
swirling in all this newfound snow.
It is freedom itself,
living and breathing
upon supernatural aurora borealis wind.

And now I have knowledge
of the previously unexperienced.
I understand why time moves in its way,
even in reckless undulating lines,
when just a whisper will do.