The Caliber Of Grand Pea An Knows

What a beautiful Sun blossoming on the horizon of gold in just this Mornings long rose,

the light sheds a toss of sighing colors breath,
the hill on tips of leaves at banks spy whispering each shadows lie,

still scenes of grace,

those boughs of a trace that kind nuzzle of Warmth from the big Hello of the hugs on goes.

Each gasp of treasure on this Planet of Waist,

hands that dash to grip tell Face,

music on the space,

shouts with days,

plates on the earth Arbors of girth!!

For the classical waters of salts shined,

veer dial And base a feat,

speeding with the shores of sight,

by ways of enjoying the gift of bind.

So tightly knit at Moons in sphere,

imagining the Wares of life on steer,

that in the ground of past grand sound,

wonderment of same in reins of grain.

Rice Hulls wheat & rye,

pickled bellies Jars orphans and dies,

graves with lawn telling of tomb,

the gather of collective on spoke tales!!

Sheer in valley the depth of carriage,

rivers that have spelled the slide,

bunches of trunks Sticks and ka plunks,

that sign of operators on changing tides.

Charts that Men sailed the globe,

pieces of lands Mass to Continent springs,

birds Eggs nests with brings,

flights that must have soared to the bearings of such things.

Flat World Round World rounding those Capes,

cloaks Pirates rows of those boats,

news coming channels lagoons at bay folks,

excitement surely filled the fear on dust groats.

Salts Pepper spice on the Clue,

placed in appropriate mention of the shoe,

prized hours Minutes blink of choose,

I am filled with gratitude for the love of the . . . . .

you are more probably bored with my think of Nature,

so I will just say that its all about the hum drum,

whistle stops Cafe and coffee on the plums,

cherry pickers with chew bugs and a bit of sticky pay purr.

In paddles of the blues singer at the ashes on the sail,
another found that jump to be the only pen,
it tally on this mourning I scramble words to place fragile thoughts to memory boots,
so the scene of two such men I knew flew this road stirs dead,
one from self the other on the harp of vase on the stun,
to both I ring my love to the chores and doors that rank my Mind,
I have scene to think on smile and dim,
natural and thump,
I put the license of what is a hour on this gentle remind of talking a deed,
pain is the thimble of the Needle that darns the eyes with thread on the bare in sole.

I walk a traveling sleigh to harness the known,
to foundation and to those tears I say it is the piers,
what is such ducks in a row that geese have pond and moves have most,
of the interesting endings to beginnings of lives that play the guitar of the times,
I thought many a moon mile on this inch of connects,
it plundered me,
but at that falling tear I said to bell oh's,
it must be simple,
the company of a sign meants.