Winter, someone says, is cold and harsh.
Who says? Who perceives it so?
A tiresome voice inside my head.
Everything in existence is simply vibration
until some instrument picks it up –
then it becomes perception.
Perception depends on the instrument used,
and human instruments are so very limited,
The sunlight outside is a vibrating wave.
Tune my instrument just a bit and I could hear it
as it fills the meadow and dances atop the snow.
The glistening ice diamonds that sparkle in my view
would become sharp notes cascading up and down a hidden scale.
There is much more, so very much more,
to life than my instruments would have me know.
That’s why I rest a drum against my chest
and beat a rhythm I can feel within my ribs.
I’m not content with the world
that I’ve been taught to see.
I want the Hidden World I know is waiting
beyond the doors of my perception.
I want to hear the sun as it rises
above the peak of Black Butte,
and see the colors of the rain
as it beats against my roof.
I want the cold to be a melody
and the snow to be a winter symphony