There is a bubbling plant, fanfolded leaves that grows like a weed up and down this hillside, and nobody knows it. But listen to its gushing song, the way it revels in being alive and all the generous moods of the sun. the curious way the wind wakes it, lifting like cloudscapes and waves underneath. Raw and in love, ready for anything and yet here is a sensitivity like feeling the ridges of your fingertips as you pet silk.
Take it easy, baby.
Take it easy.