Do you love the soundless speech of snow
Or the tender words that scrap your neck,
Can you feel the waves of sound close
Do I have the cloud of silver.
Does the fox have fire in its stomach, or reap the benefits it owes
Why can't I see the light o darkness, in those misty snow cones.
Skies of satin paint my spirit,
Bitter orange stings my tongue,
I do not feel so alone when the river bends,
And my taste sparks brighter than young.
Seems of closed earmuffs,
I think these things will grow wings,
Our homes are in a postcard,
Can you hear the maple tree sing?