There's an entity behind my eyes
that folds my thoughts into airplanes
my ears are the terminals to the sky

There's mud on the runway
but they're begging to go outside
he moves the blocks, they take flight
the planes turn to envelopes
just harmless little notes
entering through someones eyes
and exiting through their throats
sprouting into fishing boats
floating on air with the current
reaching places only the birds go
my thoughts turn to weeping willows
covered in white insect pillows
that filter out negative tones
the tips of the limbs call the grassy ground home
and this is how we know
we best leave nature alone

my thoughts turn to snowflakes
that splatter on the window of an airplane
flying through the thunder that makes the boat shake
and when the clouds cry, the willow is made