Crack of dawn 'till sealing dusk,
A day too lengthy 'morrow paid,
At least it filled with all it ought,
A frantic dance between the realms of thoughts and places.

I once heard,
That poems reach out,
And stoop their shortest,
As a single symbol,
Foreign even to forgotten scripts,
But that's a cop out,
Instead I'll settle,
For blowing hot air about it.