Elucidating Questions

Sometimes the wind rustles my hair like a great hand

And whispers

Don’t give up

Sometimes a butterfly floats past

No monarchs.

Which I said.

Oh great sigh I am going to be bored

Aren’t I?

Ah, well.

Bored between whatever this new thing is

Awkward unknown fumbling

Crazy no more

You poor pitiful thing

So wound up in the future

You didn’t see the present