Hear Ye. Hear Ye. Here we
propose to posit prose poetry,
forming forms of continuous connectivity
to communicate considerable
contemplative reflectivity.

Simply put, we pose this where
prose poetry is what you'll hear
when wondering where the time went
while reading such rhyme wonderments
as oft we've wrought, and revealed thusly;
each whit of wit written Hieronymously.


Rabbits are bounding around in the yard, and
I hear a few deer munching leaves near my garden.
Boy and girl squirrels flit and twirl up oak trees.
This morning's first light brought me sights such as these.