Noticed in late afternoon your spiritual trousers
weren't Astounding. Stand up for ineffable diminuendos.
So. Weren't it. Unfolding like zillions of blinds maybe
in Childhood toward our transitional brightness then
parking Ourselves behind. You know. The dead
tree Whodunit just to keep going forward not
announcing Stop until we spotted divine inklings
in Tiny bug-like glyphs of breathy stuff. But
wait Don't you care what anyone thinks anymore.
Not The sparrows the germinating plungers the zeros.
None of them full of force and burly devices but
just Enough beautiful falling down takeaways to get us.