Friar Butte Palace of Old Moorish
©1-18-2020, Olan L. Smith
I saw the bird outside my window sill
The trees were summer green in wooded land
I do not dare so blink, in case, my will
To capture owl with this my camera hand,
An image pressed within my mind, my dome,
And Hence to rove my pad, a feverish
Arena left to find lost retro-chrome,
In Friar Butte Palace of Old Moorish.
They say those days are finished and done,
For this old man to rush about for glimpses
Of nature, think of it, a charm a fun,
To seize a grandeur's spark, if God so blesses.