Navigated by lightning bugs last night. Cardinals, crows, and clouds today.
Paying a small crumb of my dues to the Universe,
I leave you a small bag full of tart apples and an unopened box of
Cold and Flu gel caps purchased last spring: that distant moon.

Paying a small crumb of my dues to the Universe,
I’ve learned to find balance before I drop my breath:
Cold and Flu gel caps purchased last spring: that distant moon
doesn’t know what it’s gotten us all into, does it?

I’ve learned to find balance before I drop my breath:
stopped counting puddles and precipitation rates. A statistic
doesn’t know what it’s gotten us all into, does it?
It doesn’t matter how many feet designate a hill from a mountain.

Stopped counting puddles and precipitation rates. A statistic
true for a home state isn’t the same for a present or future state.
It doesn’t matter how many feet designate a hill from a mountain.
It matters how you make friends, when you lead, and when you follow.