Good
day, sunshine
It is the outdoors for me this day the
garden
these bees the water on the path
how many seeds
are calling out to grow who made me
the agent of this fate
don’t run ahead of yourself now
the bullrush in the pond
planted fresh from on high
product of a passing bird’s arse
run and play
the dirt my feet
dog rolling in the scent
of who knows
inside
he watches me
in congress
with the box of glowing sound
his black pebble eyes decry
the indoors this obsession
all that
connecting the dots
I
leverage the root hairs
plant myself
in the space where
I am to grow
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