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?
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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 :)
Thank you Bert! I appreciate your compliment and for blogrolling me!
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! : )
Hi Ron, Thank you!
That which is caught is bound to be freed, indeed. : )
I like this one. Wind will be wind! ~Shirley
Hey, I like this one. Wind will be wind…Shirley
oops! I got carried away!
I forgot to turn of the notify, so my inbox got quite some new mails :)