Kimmi’s  Tree       Few people immerse themselves in the miscible multitude  of  solutions  to the queries  of  our thyme.  When they chew and ponder  the nuggets  of  mastication,  while cognizing  elucidation  of  their peers:  L.E. MINTS  congeal  their concentration.       Arborists concern themselves  with Kimmi’s Tree,  while listening to  key tones.       Erie gates  keep intruders  from  the pensive orchard  while nutrient  “Aqui Mists”  are spayed,  hear  and their,  to precipitate  fruity growth.       The Blacksmith,  with comity,  pounds  on his Anvil!—  inspires  Johns,  in  Manville,  to make insulation (and celebrate  with Libation).       Of  coarse,  the source of  Books  in the library  next door  (to the Blacksmith),  are  the Arthurs—  for  locksmith kooks.       They congregate,  and vibrate—  in the library:  to lucubrate  the  Key Mystery—  of  compounds.       Moses and malingerers  kick my uncanny Ipse Dixits  down the road,  each Anni,  when they Reed—  away down South  in the land  of  DIXITS!       I am  no slacker  when  I stretch the Tautology:  Ten-Dixit.       A  copper  is  a topper;  but,  a  Ten-Note  funds  ostentatious living!

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