We could glide capaciously in today's tomorrow, if the snow isn't envious and old on our common ground. We could settle artful questions. Adjectives provide seasons, even cold ones. The chain of envy tells us so. Now today, the enveloping dark of an only day remind us of time. Time is grand and smoky, needing words to approximate its distribution with love. We are together now, we can hear the light of fronds. Today is a national day, a worldly day, a day full of tomorrow's tooth and nail. Imagine the anger in today, left to go tomorrow. Imagine today, left to yesterday's wage. We aren't really singing these songs, these tropes, these shires of mirth and memory. We lose our wheels to the portents of donation. Our pillow means a lot. We are together now, green spires called trees or bracing. Our pillow means a lot. Our pillow means our love.