Font the grey clouds for golf divots, the golf be Tween us. grass certainly grass, the old town and not new. the poem in exact in these terms, swaying of grass or leaves in trees. grey cloud some times clog some fresh news in town they drove to their rights in reading wrong, all night theory tracts of sp ace called minute by minute just to explain. those words in the poem seem enough but only time tells.
poems, fireflies...