Chord

Chord

Not that you could see it, but a heavy snow
fell behind you. Droplets in flake form.
Who would imagine such a thing to exist?

Certainly I, in my current state, winking,
asking as if I knew the right answer
did not. Imagine… or know. Yet asked

you, Chord or individual note,
which do you prefer?

Non-answer, bald as the moon -- and just
louder than the white. The tilt of your head
was the purest of these I have ever heard.

c. Ciprianowords, Inc., 2010