Looking again at last night’s poem, dashed off in a moment, I saw the possibilty of structure. Here it is again – redone:
.
I wake at midnight and open the window
I know not why
The scene is the same – the empty street,
The starry sky.
The mounded snow, the neighbor’s light
All the same as any other winter night
And then I hear the singing.
copyright 2016
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