Muse

The dog in the park across the street it barks and ever noisy and boisterous it is,
and the dog, oh how It runs endlessly backwards and forwards chasing sticks,
as outside my window the drunk outside prowls, leering at everyone as if an intoxicated owl,
and oh, how the wind it howls,
and how the wind it howls as the women hang out their washing,
and they struggle to keep hold of their towels,
and how fast the clouds do pass across the sky and with no time to stop for me to ask them why,
but the sun all through the day says hi,
and it shares its beautiful warmth that does enlighten the mind and the heart,
and hark, at the birdsong as at the falling of the dark,
the sparrows are chasing the larks,
and across the heavens heavenly archers fire their flaming arrows in the form of meteors which capture the eyes and the minds imagination with their speed and the light across the blackest of nights that they do impart,
and what a work of art,
what a great work of art are the heavens and the moon and the stars,
the heavens and the moon and the stars that cover the day in the most beautiful way,
and that so gloriously light up the black with intermittent lights that fight to hold back the black in all its parts.

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