![\"sunflowers-by-gulyas\"](\"http:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/09\/sunflowers-by-gulyas.jpg\")
sunflowers ~ gulyas<\/p><\/div>\n
Natural Geographic<\/strong><\/p>\n Honey in the bee box ~ smith<\/p>\n FIN (until next time)<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" 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…<\/p><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"spay_email":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/754"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=754"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/754\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":807,"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/754\/revisions\/807"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=754"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=754"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=754"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nRaisins in the bread
\nFound my baby cooking
\nTook her back to bed
\nAsked her in the morning
\nHow she liked my beats
\nSaid I was a poet
\nBut need to test more sheets
\nRode her to the mountain
\nNestled in the cloud
\nDown to bushy plain
\nWhere the field is plowed
\nPlayed her wet in water
\nHeld her high in air
\nLaughed like loonies liking
\nThen took her to the fair
\nClimbed among the Tetons
\nRubbed around the mill
\nReaching each our reasons
\nScrubbed a rub the grill
\nNot much more to mutter
\nMatters not at all
\nThat we bit the apple
\nThat led us to this fall<\/p>\n