Over and away, where there is no one already knowing
One to one and one to many, all for doubt and all for show
I engage in the anti-calm of memory
While listening to the mindfulness of breathing
What is the sense of the tree branches
Vibrantly and frantically waving
What is the sense of the wild, stirring whistle
Through the ill-fitting doors and windows
Already; lilacs, photographs; daffodils, enamel jugs
Under and near, where there is no one already deceiving
One to one and one many times over, all for love and all for show
