Purple turban smelled of bourbon sought all things he saw.. silent were Gods of man.. no succor.. offered paw..
Blooded grass silent sends such news through every root.. witness acts recording nature each fall of each boot..
Mother tends her garden sense of beauty in her plan.. witness solid sees the squalid folly laid by man..
Trees cannot be bitter.. still another silent child.. hears a drunken titter from plan of blues so styled..
Seek the gutter with a mutter.. kind of grandpa sound.. kind of like respect.. protect you when he came around..
Flowers round a sunny alley corner show the way.. each little wonder natural.. witnesses today..
Have a pile of smiles on me.. joy lent to your trail.. silent beauty.. ways of nature.. image never stale..
Canine bark your love and purpose playing jest to please.. Mother watches mammas as they kiss.. protect and squeeze..
Example of father lost a deal not his way.. would not sell his honor.. love and care he feels each day..
Quiet breeze.. grass to my knees.. silent sensed a play.. kind mercy of mirrors when good folks pass grassy days..
‘each living senses in silence.. is witness.. part.. as we are part of works by the ultimate artist’..