One wonders how the sky e'er came to be
Or how the fishes ever found their place
in creek and ocean numbered with no end.
One wonders at the why or how of all.
Of verses plain that lilt in normal mete'
Of would-be poets countless here and there.
Of verse that's blank as five feet wander through
though assonance two times plays twinning hue.
Obscurity is poets' saving grace
The license shown to placate oft critique
And when there's nothing else to put in place
of writing, minds are prone to fall in line.
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