god’s in his heaven
the perfect spot
is it not
for the sun is gentle
and the garden humid
the door to the greenhouse
is open wide
the plants have decided
it is time to grow
and my shirt is off
my toes exposed
and this how it goes
as the apple blossoms fall
all is perfect in the world to me
forgotten yuletide the christmas tree
the cobra sage is flowering free
mint and thyme aromatic dinner
a place here for even a sinner
can see the reason for a perfect life
here sit with me and end this strife
climate change is coming fast
the clement parameters will never last
a pigeon flaps and pecks her cheek
everything fecund or so to speak
let me rest my golden eyes
under these blue suburban skies
and dream it will stay with me
but alas it is not meant to be
a chill breeze stirs the grass
my shirt back on
until the clouds are past
god’s in his heaven
the king’s on his throne
so go away off with you now
i need to be alone
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