The Chase

5/16/11

The Chase

When morn had just come with daylight bright

I sat before the page to write

Of orange clouds and clear blue skies,

Of nature’s breath blowing by…

The Poem vanished from my sight,

Slipped from my mind and into flight

With lucent wings right over me

And settled soft right on a tree.

“That’s not so bad, that’s not too high”

I said,

And watched it fly into the sky

And settle with the others in a crowd,

A bunch of Poems on a cloud.

“Great! I’ll never catch them there!” I yelled

And right there then a Poem fell,

Like a meteor through the air,

And plopped into a library chair.

I hid behind a shelf and spied

As the Poem wandered by,

Sifting through the yellow pages

Poking fun at poets’ faces,

Then shifting through like water, even,

It settled in a book of Stevens.

I crouched and crawled to it, sly,

To smack and catch it like a fly,

But it grew some feet and ran astray

A few too many meters away

And settled ‘tween a girl’s legs

“I should not write of that,” I said,

And waited till it chose to go

And luckily it flew right home.

I came back home

And sat before the page to write

With Poem in mind, shining bright,

 Of orange clouds and clear blue skies,

Of nature’s breath blowing by…

And Poem complied.