Twirl in circles,
Round Sun, Wednesday, or Summer.

Twirl in circles,
Round Sun, Wednesday, or Summer.
There is no center.
Just loose footing.
Relative points to orient the senses,
There is nothing.

In a plane, outside the jungle.
Thick green canopy gives way to the infinite eye.
No vine to hang on to,
no branch to stand on.
So let us hold hands and lay back,
needle will find its track,
as we gyrate and sing,
how glorious the May,
how funny the bees.