What're you doing? Nothing.

What're you doing? Nothing.  .
Clearing my brain, looking at rain
What're you seeing? Nothing.  
Hoping to bring some little thing to ackowledge my being, nothing.
Where're you going?  Nowhere.  
Moving my feet along down the street, getting from here to nowhere.
Nowhere to go, moving real slow, going? don't know, just somewhere.

The snow is non-discriminating . . .

The snow is non-discriminating -- that is what I view.
It falls upon the gardens but upon the Common too

Carpeting so beautiful, of the softest quality
Embroidery on the branches of the most ordinary tree

Snow will touch an open hand, no matter poor or rich
And kiss the lakes or puddles, not ever caring which

Upon the rooftops in the slums, the snow falls pure and clean
As it does upon the mansion roofs of men of wealthy mien

Snow rings the bells of churches and, as gently, signs of dives
And hugs the puddle-pusher's cart, like the car the chauffeur drives

The pious and the godless men are equally painted white
And the white and black are equal as if they walked by side at night

Oh snow, you turn to beautiful, the dump, the garbage can
And truly you're magnificent, treating equal every man