The Reality Of The Situation

A foggy morning meadow can't obscure the truth.

I have some input on what players will be involved, but not the sole input.

The reality of the situation is I am not in control.

Unless I decide to break out the weed whacker, I have even lost control of the paths. There is currently heavy floppage.

I just push my way through.

So far unwilling to sacrifice flowers for unfettered travel.

There is no need to hurry. I will make my way through, slowed by arching sprays of asters and goldenrod, eye to eye with buzzing bees, in wonderment.