HI he HU u

TO’Day, Hi looks up in what may no longer be considered distress, but rather a relaxed dissonance, one to which we may all breath a sigh of flower.

Hu looked at the floor and it’s little pink hapless feet, pattering on soft concrete concersino. No more little dance could be seen. No more bugs to eat.

Hi yawns in contempt. “Hu is who I long for.”

The little white dove with the head injury still sails through the unknown.

At the least; we hope.

At the most; we know.

Ignorance is a subtle thought turned away from to hear the hum of on coming traffic.