A bouncing baby Jesus slipping down a daylight cloud in the ethereality. Pu-ure happiness come down from heaven itself, packaged like peas for the cold and starving human beings. Pulling the plants from the tundra and the embryo falls from the womb. We are all slaves to the sun but she doesn't know it and never asks for anything in return. Selfless and insufferable.

Scent so subtle it floats on breezes cool spring mornings and warm summer nights: Barbeque, honeydews and crab apple grass trees. Blows like sweet breath, tickling your ear and warming your neck. Hazy like lazy flys swirl and bob in the afternoon sun with afternoon delight and afternoon honesty.

Sandy, soft, subtle, sacred, soothing, fragrant. Kings that don't try but just are, beggars who wink at you from silver garbage cans, sparkling in the street.