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An Arcana larger of Tarot supplies a language,
A series of A’s, B’s, C’s, of the windows...
A set of views around the same yard.
The yard remains the same.
They look at the yard, the perspectives, the changes.
The time’s movements, journeys, with the view ~
The flowers flower, the rabbit develops.
Bends of grass, the wind bell ringing...
Their opinion travels you around the place, in order to see...
For each season, each hour, each work,
You perhaps better know from a certain perspective
That profits an angle, which offers the assistance
Of an angel,
Or if only the society, or if must measure…

Now, our depth, mine and A’s,
O, very deep or, perhaps, a little deep field? But still,
The progress of the hours ~ Their love,
Do they die, do they prosper, them?
Do they make poor, do they heal, them?
And others, too, prosper, with them?
And if more proffers from love, ours, of the hours,
Nevertheless,
Another view models other halls, other perspectives
Perfectly for you, on it, in it ~ Yes, our speculum reports
Two in it, in a second place, lÃ*-bas relief, relievo,
Another face of mine, time, masters you
Here by the yard of the yard.

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Blog, or dog? Who knows.
But if you see my lost pup, please ping me!
http://journals.aol.com/virginiaz/DreamingofLeonardo