14 january

Let's take a break from staking claims -- there's no way to rhyme reason with these seven seasons of mad gladness and the last that stretches to cold. To fold hands and enter commands return keys in breezy brisk efficiency, to send away dependency with swift strokes -- it's a high hope to run wild with childish abandon, to hand in the keys to all the locked doors and wander more freely upstairs and beyond. Ponds deep and highways long: simple words to a complicated song strung out stretched enough to bluff even the most careful listener -- the winter of a table of contents is open for the season.