The Mojo

They do not speak, yet still they say
That beauty lives in bright display—
A fleeting joy, a moment's grace,
A smile upon the earth’s kind face.

OK, if you insist...

I could while away the hours, conferring with the flowers, consulting with the rain...

And my head I'd be scratching, while my thoughts were busy hatching, if I only had a... hey, wait a second!