Now the connection with spring has dissolved.

Now that hysteria is blooming.

Says every day I want to fly my kite.

Says what’s a grammar when you is no longer you.

My world is hydrogen burning in space and in the fullness of etc.

I have read the news and learned nothing.

I try to understand the whooshing overhead.

But for a little light now.

I didn’t realize the tree was weeping.

How was I to know I am not alone.

Wild light.