A Breath of wind is wind itself,

should true and steady braided shelfs,

foraged fords from handsome lords,

prayed hopes & proper ropes,

could life and science meet the world beyond Biology?

"A home," it cried, "a home for me with trees and lakes and reverie."

I tried and cried for something else, elsewhere

I found a leaning shelf.

Should what was true and even hold nothing told or helpless here,

I cannot hide a place inside,

though I cannot say I really tried.