Early morning
tiny little voices I hear
I look around
then remember
it's all in my head
I stop I listen closely
but the words are choked
I sit
at my window
squinting
through the bars on the other side
the plow man has come
and cleared the snow away
but the drift he forgot
in front my door
I will not go out anyway
not today not today
not until tomorrow
or the next
whatever the man say
I sit
at my window
tiny little voices I hear
this time
I do not look around
it's all too familiar
that familiar familiar sound
I sit
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