humming a tune under her breath

humming a tune under her breath
she fairly skipped from the room,
a roguish smile on her lips,
a plan in her mind, a hope
for the future, the sound
of her song in the air, she
left the room, the room inhabited
by all who had watched her
go, who sat now, appalled
at the implications of
her smile

it was to the good that he
could make something of this
world, having risen from
nothing at all, from a
poor boy’s broken shoes
and hunger, it was
surprising he could have
become his own ideal, all that work to let him be a dressed up sausage with a mindless appetite

looking much the same as usual how can the world keep rolling in its orbit , carrying this growing weight of pain

nature doesn’t care, it goes on through seasons, that’s what nature does, however much we describe it all as if we matter to it, it doesn’t care

tensions relax in the spring, eyes have outside to look at and the birds fill the ears, at least I think that’s what happens, something like that, I won’t try again to say just how it works, I’ll just pretend that when I said it last time it was for once and all,
ravens are indicators, mean more in their sight and whether they fly in ones and multiples than

the blush of dawn and birds rejoice
insects sweetly hum
and summer comes with flowers

he carried his face as a part of his dress
he donned his face for the street he walked
out with his face intended to look good with his tie
he never heard farther than his ears, his tongue only spoke expedient phrases and he believed he mattered despite all
the indications that the world noticed him not at all