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.