Outlined in aster , and traced with trees The American painted lady weeps by the creek. Lepidoptera just sits there smelling the sweet aroma of lavender and cosmos. While off in the distance The dandelion stands alone. Never touched, outcast from beauty a weed among the trophies. No need for sorcery in this white mirth of careless laughter, For the song of the gray crested tufted titmouse utters a love song; Listening to the water splash a thousand leagues away. Crickets dance to the twinkle of the smiling stars immemorial to the silver-veiled moon, a dusting of the obscenely clouds harboring the Milky-Ways shroud of perfection, from dawn till' now.