Wire Haiku

beneath hazard lights
and plastic ropes, the new year's 
grass grows thick.

Lay the new over the old.

I would honestly break through a barbed-wire fence just to feel a new batch of grass on my face. Fresh, dewy, five-in-the-morning grass is one of the purest delights in life; second only to autumn leaves and summer rain.

Today’s music provokes a similar feeling of soft, summery glee: Maybe I’m Crazy by Monarchy.