Fanciful Visions

A thought flew by I tried to snatch it But from the air I just could not grab it Next floats an image along the banks of my brain Yet when I try to recall it it slips down the drain Then ‘fore my eyes a rainstorm furious its pellets, slit-slanted its form -- O, to trap her lightning in a bottle yet though I lunge, she's going full throttle… Seems I just haven’t much luck with fanciful visions I would pluck My lithe and limber fingers gnarl up… Stop saying ‘Timber’ ~ they’re stuck