The Robin is not singing for me,
Better hold my breath
While I eavesdrop.
The path beneath my step
Is not worn away
For my convenience
But I'll keep my head down,
Hope nobody sets a dog on me.
The wind in the trees
Isn't puffed for my hair,
But, what's left of it,
Feels it's stirrings
And I hope my body,
So close to the launch pad,
Doesn't hinder the gusts
Trying to set free a balloon.
I take comfort that the Cumulus
Is leaving nothing to chance,
It  has brought along
It's own blue heaven
To drift along in,
But I'm pretty sure
It would be doing it anyway,
And the river is not even flowing
In my direction,
Still, I will keep noticing things
Listening in to my life.
Someone up ahead calls out a name,
One that I have been known by,
But it wasn't meant for me,
Just another happy coincidence.