It was cold out

I wrapped up and went walking
it was cold out
I picked up two little stones to warm my hands

The wind from the North
smelt of snow
My nose running for shelter in my beard

I longed for something and nothing
stumbling along hidden paths
Through brambles of thoughts

I trod in dog shit
It was cold out
I picked up two little stones to warm my hands

Music

Does my soul attract the music I listen to?
Or does the music I listen to, attract my soul?