Chewing a blade of grass ,
walking the wood fence line
Jumping a bird or two with -
nothing to do
Venus could be my grandmother
Shining her love , vigilantly watching over ,
laying out my trail through fields of clover
Mom is the 'Farmer's Moon' , maybe a dogwood in bloom ,
Spinning threads of love with a golden loom
Searching the young night for angels in -
the sky , whistling a familiar tune with nothing
to do* ...