The little one calls them monsters
I see them as confused and lonely
Moving blindly
Their outer coverings like summer kudzu
Intricate and and Mysterious
But only hinting at the thing below
Some soft and gentle light that pulls
The mounds forward
In a sweet, but confident way
The detritus of their coverings
Creating drag
Conveying the appearance of confusion
The shoulds and the would buts mound over us
and make our own light feel mysterious
Self-absorbed 