Graffiti on the east wall

It was rather early this morning when I strolled out into the desert, and freezing cold, for the desert cold is a bone chilling cold, a cold that keeps my steps quick, but cold enough that I can wander aimlessly while deep in thought, for in the warmth of Spring that would be a mistake, then one takes care where one steps, the eyes are always ten paces ahead, for to willy-nilly along a path is an invitation for a rattling good surprise. Rattlesnakes! But now too cold for anything, except for a wandering monk or two. It was on my return that I spotted Brother Clarence closely inspecting the adobe east wall. And then it caught my eye, scrawled in white chalk was: "Br. Clarence is a Naturalist!" A naturalist?! Hearing my approaching sandal steps he turned and what surprised me was that he was smiling broadly, a smile of both joy and glee. "What have we here?" I inquired. "Do you know the difference between a scientist and a naturalist?" His eyebrows raised and instead of attempting a quickly constructed reply, I raised my eyebrows in reply. That was enough, for he continued, "A scientist unweaves the rainbow, and a naturalist weaves it back together." Yes, I thought, and with that I too smiled and said, "How does poached eggs sound?"