Wind assembles the day. The reaches to and from places become prominent as world shape. You can smell wood burning, ocean scent provokes last minute consumerism, trees bend with a whiff, flowers save the day. The wind appears here without staying: from here to elsewhere, without repose. That rush of system accepts all energies, even yours, for sport or maunder. Tomorrow placed as the far end of today. Yesterday remembers the place where the wind began. Sentences center on pronouns and the verbal effect. Wind makes speech and verb. Now towers sway, sun flares, meaning seems based on weathered rock. Wind remains as a going thought.
It begins with a scanning of light, a settlement of words. The lightly fracture of Bird sound begins in the office of seeing. Not sentiment but sense, as cool as Green in the Early days. Pasture resists nonpasture, no one Refers to none. All remains including nothing. Morning Is belief and there simply there. Tides go freshly to the point.
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