Focused eyes on that which is hid—

Splendor of a perched peacock’s quid?

Or searcher’s scan for a gemmed bid?

Fool-born stares see neither on grid

For points view of mind’s open lid. ; )

Holy hums before starting morning strums.

In zenned eyes, a paraselene rise.

Pitters of patters muted to matters.

Focused flight to first tweet to new day’s sweet. ; )

Scene’s essence’s synesis says us in incense senses sees seen. ; )

Perched upon her pedestrian pedestal, she was no more than a simple people watcher, though passersby who returned glances felt her posture tended towards a deiform delineation. ; )

Birb’s brain knew worms were had by early ones,

But parroting wisdom was for the nuns,

So later lory, thraward in theory,

Ever opted for arvo’s wheat berry. ; )