Now that you have eked out the granules of distance, you seek to shrink the gaps as day wears on. The terms of distance and of union have been set anew. The pace has to vary, the rhythm adapt.
The play is adamant, the music threefold, and the arbitrary divisions that were brought in to be retrofitted are sitting it out,
watching at a distance where the cougar owes no courtesy, the
grass blows in batches, and the famine gets soothed in the rain.
Gathering just-a-bit-o moss 