You think you know the way, but two turns past
those thick oaks and you feel you’re rushing
boldly into some imaginary
battle without reading the instruction
manuals all the while calmly writing
but too calm shouldn’t there be a thousand
lightning strikes each second but
maybe this is the gray way
far from those warm golden fields where
with the first crocus we try to
place the best bits next to each other
and hope some small energy may
pass but the experiment has not been
successful so I may try to breathe again
other animals 