Fences stand
In the field, habitat of snakes.
She sews clothes.

This world, of beauty,
lifts myriad vacant skies
for blank world to view.

Your thoughts start coming out
In low key lighting,
Sepia toned shots,
And distorted by a fog machine
Hidden in the corner.
You analyze it
Piece-by-piece,
Paint-by-numbers,
Cuts, takes, dissolves,
and throw the fragments up
in the air.

Confetti in the form of "art"
Left for anyone's interpretation.

One white daisy
and my two closed eyes.
These shield us from the world