I wake to hear noises of taste and sight. I hear wolves howl and taste salt as it dries my mouth. I hear a whisper in the wind and see smoke flowing through the sky. I hear an icicle shatter from its fall and see tree branches crashing down towards my feet. I hear trees cracking in the bitter, cold winter and taste warm, buttery popcorn. I hear a deer running through the snowy forest and see red dots scattering a white canvas. I hear the enormous sound of a gunshot and see my family gathered around a table enjoying a fresh kill of the forest. I live and hear noises of tate and sight.