sunflowers ~ gulyas
Natural Geographic
Honey in the bee box
Raisins in the bread
Found my baby cooking
Took her back to bed
Asked her in the morning
How she liked my beats
Said I was a poet
But need to test more sheets
Rode her to the mountain
Nestled in the cloud
Down to bushy plain
Where the field is plowed
Played her wet in water
Held her high in air
Laughed like loonies liking
Then took her to the fair
Climbed among the Tetons
Rubbed around the mill
Reaching each our reasons
Scrubbed a rub the grill
Not much more to mutter
Matters not at all
That we bit the apple
That led us to this fall
~ smith
FIN (until next time)