I’ve been wondering about this for a while. And now it’s solved, elegantly and clearly.
[daily log: walking, 4km]
Day: November 12, 2018
Caveat: Poem #834 “Mood shift”
ㅁ Phrases slip out and envelop the air hanging and swirling across small divides so, in that way they embrace the despair slowly arriving like foam on the tides
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter.