My aunt Sara was gracious enough to share this poem with me. I feel that it is quite fitting for this morning's beauty.
Poor Man's Art
If it came to namin' great painters,
I couldn't even start.
But, I'm a regular patron
of the best in poor man's art.
The murals that I look at
are painted in the sky.
The sunsets on the Great Plains
surpass what money can buy.
That wild display of color
manifests in every hue,
from bloody red to shining gold,
from pink to turquiose blue.
Its extravagance can never be matched
in beauty or in size.
The glorious sunsets on the plains
reward the tiredest eyes.
I'm privileged to partake of beauty
that everyone can afford.
The gallery is the western sky,
and the painter is the Lord.
-Joe Kreger
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Just like mama said... If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all.