under the hard seam shell,
there is an empty room for Somahalia Spell.
before a butterfly lands on the Moon,
there is an egg, a larva, a puppa, and a moth cocoon.
while you fancy about a frog on a log,
you shall see a tadpole polly-wog.
weighted down by tides of sea water,
the timid I hibernate like a Wisconsin butter.
the voiceless argument
will last,...perch for settlement,
will differentiate...smell the roses
at least, for a dove's sake, for today...