Did you think of me when you were putting it together?
It seems to fit my specific niche so perfectly.

Did you know how much I would like it?
How it would infiltrate my dreams?
How I would spin it over and over?
How I would sit in the garden listening.

6:12 am, MA early September.
Humidity is high.
Everything is wrapped in mist, shrouded skin.
The little pool was left open last night and drained to the level of the big pool.
This is physics.
An operator’s mistake.

Timestamp 5:10.

Tears.
The way the water flows.
D
O
W
N

Why?

Are your eyes truly on the sparrow?
The one perched in the great pine.
The one sitting on cool stones sipping coffee.

Listening.

Lambchop punching the clown