As the traffic-lights trade reciprocation
I ask, who composed the patterns?
As my exhale and inhale exchange resting places
who is there to conduct the traffic?

Spiders hang on barely by a tread
yet we cannot spare the ice from melting
Every bud of of summer bloom
makes graying hair loose its silver lining

The ladybug and kiwi fruits
I ask, who composed the patterns?
When we are too in our celestial resting places
who holds license to conduct the traffic?

Gryning Konfunderat Skymning Stimulierat
Classical Saxophonist A Lunde Garden of Eden Anderson's Lumberyard The Oval Office
Breakfast in Bratislava
The Captain's Mess
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