Silence fly paws  
on your face   
let's make the rustic and vigorous round   
without thoughts coming   
at the end of summer   
surprise the love turnstile   
damsel prudes.      
 
Silence sans brusqueries   
the last noises of the tractor are stalled   
on the buzzing of the flies   
that the sun arranges   
to discover the conflagration    
fogs of the mists of yesteryear   
of a sweet enjoyment.       
 
Silence with your eyes closed   
for the chirping of a bird   
all ready to caramelize the pan   
elaborating at the end of the game   
the measurement of time   
by the yardstick of an hors d'oeuvre   
receiving a sign from heaven.      
 
silence and more   
of sidelining   
for the fragile flower   
out of the vase without sycophancy   
at dusk   
when the geese pass   
on the thrill of the polders.      
 
silence-the-willows
will make beautiful children
with organized mucilages
deep in the ground
from snake to bird
the man of faith
knowing the inside.
 
( Peinture de Michel Bole du Chomont )
 

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