Anxious frames leave glass strewn across the lawn whose grasses, tended by chemical love entreat the barefoot to burn a little. It was restlessness a sense of purpose with less ness than lead to expect that pressure spooked this gobbledygook into taking grasp of my philodendron faculties. Annual towers crumble at winter's behest and it was my arctic circle my glaciations that trapped my Endurance between ice sheets and polar stares. When would my trapped internal organ take me out to a relevant ballgame? Would my memorandum of wordiness one day find traction on the frozen shattered road? Summer's answer was not heat but light I might refract, melt, re-form, and evaporate into an atmosphere whose nimbus airwakes could guide not reckoning: floating falling leaves.