Drafts for Chants When There’s No More Snow

It’s too cold yet
To stand in stars
And chant old poems
While the day starts,

But it’s too warm
To feel soothed, pleased
By days in walls
That just look out

And watch the world
And take close notes
And chant old poems.
The locked chest stirs

Like the pet bird
That feels the urge
To go and can’t.
So chant. Chant. Go.