Be the wild one
Who wanders the woods
Wanting for silence
But for, the song of the birds.
this is how we unfold more easefully…
inquiry for today~ chances for bliss…
changing; things are starting to
spin, snap, fly off into
afternoon. Oh and ooh
come whistling out of the perished mouth
of the grass, as things
turn soft, boil back
into substance and hue. As everything,
forgetting its own enchantment, whispers:
I too love oblivion why not it is full
of second chances. Now,
hiss the bright curls of the leaves. Now!
booms the muscle of the wind.