By Destiny Caught

The wren committing sparrow crimes

in torn up trash is glad to find

little grown-ups made up signs

on yellow paper with blue lines.

The careful lion commands esteem,

his ferocity not always what it seems.

roar of defiance now seldom rings;

he sleeps alone, perchance to dream.

The man explores his waking thoughts,

should wait for rest but he cannot;

for fear of being by destiny caught,

selling what he so recently bought.

The wind approaches carefully,

as if afraid what it might see.

Or worse, ignored, by the whisper tree

it diminishes and turns to flee.