Noon - Is The Hinge Of Day-.

This Is My Letter To The World, That Never Wrote To Me, The Simple News That Nature Told, With Tender Majesty. Her Message Is Committed, To Hands I Cannot See; For Love Of Her, Sweet Countrymen, Judge Tenderly Of Me.

Phosphorescence. Now There's A Word To Lift Your Hat To... To Find That Phosphorescence, That Light Within, That's The Genius Behind Poetry.

So Instead Of Getting To Heaven, At Last - I’m Going, All Along.

We Must Be Careful What We Say. No Bird Resumes Its Egg.

You Cannot Fold A Flood And Put It In A Drawer, Because The Winds Would Find It Out And Tell Your Cedar Floor.