I opened the widow wide
To let in the sound of new snow fall
Let in the very breath of winter
It’s hours away and I’ll be asleep
Drawn off by the planes from JFK
And the hum of a dying transformer on a phone pole
The radiator chuckles from steam

When technology replaces all this, and snow no longer comes
When winter stops breathing ‘round here
What will bear my consciousness away
And will my dreams require extra props to be interested in me?