The Tempest
Over the hills and through the trees,
I’ll catch you in a box.
I know you’re their moving the air,
you sneaky flying fox!
Ocean waves speak your name,
they move to your touch.
Much as you hook a kite,
I will sink you such.
There you are guiding the leaves,
whirling them round your thumb.
Dumb of me not to see,
you’ve mastered every crumb.
You have the skills to float the bees,
and tease my face and skin.
When I catch you in my box,
what will be of wind?
25. May 2006 um 08:33
These are some very good poems, glad to have found them!
I’ve added your site to my blogroll, to make it easier for me to visit :)
25. May 2006 um 09:24
Thank you Bert! I appreciate your compliment and for blogrolling me!
25. May 2006 um 21:37
Ah, ‘hope springs eternal in the human breast’. Beautifully done…capturing the essence of the impossible as if it were possible. Catch the wind in a box, indeed! : )
25. May 2006 um 23:04
Hi Ron, Thank you!
That which is caught is bound to be freed, indeed. : )
26. May 2006 um 09:46
I like this one. Wind will be wind! ~Shirley
26. May 2006 um 09:48
Hey, I like this one. Wind will be wind…Shirley
26. May 2006 um 09:49
oops! I got carried away!
26. May 2006 um 10:49
I forgot to turn of the notify, so my inbox got quite some new mails :)