ruby lips drawn with a thin pen
and pursed they evoke
the timid spirits
that conjured in like garden
grew between the brook and view
of the once mighty tree
even more mighty see and this stalwart
oaken leaves set to tremble
in a wisp of a wind
that blew from pursed lips
kissed by some honeyed dew
and whispered as only they were true
the sun is whisked
whisked from our view
and we couch our terms in fitting time
that throws a glance
a look unto that verse or phrase
or fancy rhyme
that speaks in volumes of what we find
when reaching
grasping we pluck at strings
and find our hands are full of many things
this banquet this noble feast
for sup as once we sup for peace