R/ckets and S/ntries

stop suddenly, for it is renaissance music, a trick thru the air. the mountain is not changed but a pause, letter in the sky. wordless but instinct, it's all common. people tell of moments, the rippling matter upon their mind's water. then all gathers in a stiff venture, a sentence or two. it swells to reasonable or more than merry. we're equal to certain signs, seemingly.