We send the sky great messages. Blue across the sky, if that's the right thing. Grey peaceful valley of snow, until the tulips tell us different. We see green in the lively trees we know, and some that we only don't. And days weigh equal to nights. Every time, with acceptable resonance and participles made for speech. We believe in the town. The town includes even as it wrenches. Try these clouds thru the hedging of your mystery. A light passes to something that would seem right. It would in a less cunning heart. The directive stands before us like a big bad noise. Politics is the next town over. We live right here.
poems, fireflies...