"a mute amen" [boomerang poem]

The birds still cry   the leafage still grows green
no matter what transpires   in realms of men
the taste of my cigar   remains yet keen
the sounds of passing cars   yet in my ken

I jot these lines   by mobile not with pen
whether I write   with brain or heart or spleen
the letters constitute   a mute amen
the birds still cry   the leafage still grows green