-- free would,

& all the spiraling connotations that come

in the afterthoughts of it, the explanations,

the tin bucket full of pieces with bark still on

for no one wants something they could've had. 

twenty-five degrees out & the air is sweet

with just enough sun to make it taste like springtime,

& flowers, & the freshness of the world after it rains.

we dance without jackets & twirl in the fading light,