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