The people walking

on two legs

down the long, tall, skylight-covered atrium

of Sunderby Hospital,

running the length and the height of the building,

could be grasshoppers

Their voices

could be the high pitches you hear

in the fields

when you're young

The hee-hawing from the elevators

arriving at intended floor

could be sighs,

or some know-all running here and there,

nodding his / her unsolicited “aha!” understanding

on eternal repeat