The sky is as it's always been,
cerulean quivering on its way to twilight.
Let the blinds close. Let them open.
Leave everything to petal into view.
Meanwhile, the fuzziness of spring is upon us.
With soft flower buds blossom beneath the stars.
Squirrels are sprinkled about the yard,
and the orchards have not yet asked us over.
Pollen unfurls itself at dawn, peeks in at dusk—
sinks to rest within itself for the night.
Time is over your shoulder, under your feet.
Follows around with every step in sight
The world is a wild beast. What will you parse next?
The land keeps moving to the same old rhythm—
the bumbling of a bee, the falling of a pear.
Life has looped around to us.
Do you make the day, or does the day make you?
