(Let the cat out of the bag.)
by Joanna Quinto
With wind that blows a weed –--
Wipes off at its soft strength.
And with a sturdy rain that may take away a trace at the moment –--
May very well leave one cold for long.
But to this, We put a dot.
Through his deathless ocean of patience,
The train of gears is re-tracked.
Signboard announces for service –--
To shoot the moon,
The stars,
And the whole ball of wax.
