Even before the words of getting, the spring hit of sun in sentence relaxes. A line of poetry waits for breath. We expect. A poem expects words. Words plan on the. The is microcosm of direction. Utility breeds utility. A sentence can go four feet or more. Signage is an extra hand. Poets describe extra hands. Words are parcels. I want to be a lark , says the program.
poems, fireflies...