What, now, is so different

This world seems the same

Still it's not right, I must twice

Look again

Coming down off the mountain

At rest against a rock

No people, persons, place or things

Can touch me in my thoughts

What brings me from the tops

To come seeping in the hops

To be molded in the loaf

To seek bread and get just toast?

Poems are swirling like a snowglobe

Follows, fathoms where the wind goes

I caught a ride and spent it well

I'm a consument poet, can't you tell?

As I return from riddle mountain

Seek I a sauna, find, I, this fountain