In a field of flowers, the marigolds
waved to say hello on behalf of the
wind.  It was not, at that time,
well understood, that the wind had
cosmic drifts of stars, like blossoming
marigolds, to be parried with steel
and resolve.  The numbers added up
to amounts obscured and contradicted.
This interminable universe swirled in
spirals set by the hysterical gardener.
The telephone operator was calm.