So Very Raw Motifs Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Lucky juniper out on the cusp of another job:
There it goes tasting their air, rhyming towards the bulbs and
The scents of Christmas, while underneath that well
Titted hook,
All of my family is out on their walk with their dogs:
They go past the crocodiles and the rattlesnakes:
They go past so many things too well sated to move, like
Professionals of the shadows,
Or the memories of so many horses that once spoke of this
Earth mindlessly,
Culling up to the troughs of windmills, like the sweat on prenatal
Tattoos and having a look around the splendiferous valley:
Their ears and senses succumbing to the nature
Of the chaos
That they find so captivating: when the bees die on the flower,
The flower goes by unweeping, in its little ballroom,
As the airplanes continue the same way in the sky,
The clouds lying like fainted paramours about their silver wingspans:
All of their plans forgotten, and their oh so very raw motifs
Left absolutely unexplained.