Rustic Dreams

echo the joyous tidings that embraced him where he stood, speechless in the realm of poetry so pure, so pristine and humbled by such beauty sculptured to perfection by hands more ancient than most his legs of custard planted beneath a burned-orange reverie and autumn’s breath seductively brushing against the naked trees enticed by tranquility and peace the gentle rustle of techni-colored leaves as nature silently prayed and spoke to his heart with a gentle tongue cascading brilliant hues to the darkened corners of his mind as his eyes became obsolete he felt elevated to the playfields where angels roam with the air perfumed by jasmine and orange blossoms lazily drifting with satin eloquence that shanghaied his mood and blessed him withreverence