A Different Mix of Air in Every Breath

It’s all improvisation,
However madly rehearsed.
There is no repetition,

The reason the universe
Remains irreversible,
Regardless how faithfully,

Perfectly the singer sings
From precomposed, printed scores.
A sudden cloud of oak leaves

Lifts off from the meadow’s ditch
In a gust of cold sunset.
Won’t ever happen again.