this morning started in Italic-
rivulets of soft rain rebelling
joining forces in a barrel
sounding an echoed chant

bold-print and sun bright be
when magic, through fingers, slips
and those fairy wings feel clipped
let go that pitter-patter of pity

Ariel, sans-serif, bound no more
a lion, lambent, unto its end's
into a flight of clouds and more
grasping as above, so amend

-cec