Hot Pursuit

Floating gently in the air

It seems to have such grace

Before it leaves him evermore

His hand to it does race

As if a game it darts away

And mocks his lame attempt

He takes a step to try again

And finds only contempt

It begs him come and snatch it up

It's his; he wants it now

He runs to grab it quicker still

And starts to furl his brow

Why must it be so hard to grab

It's good to have he knows

Abundance of this goodly thing

Would make him brightly glow

Harder still he chases 'round

It will be his to use

He trips about and meets the ground

About to blow his fuse

Out of breath he lays his head

And soaks in his defeat

Then pondering considers how

His chase was all but sweet

Suddenly it dawned on him

That through his rush to gain

The opposite of this good thing

Was steering at his reigns

Impatience led him to be swift

But now he'll sit and wait

He stares intently as it dances

Like it were elate

Anger and frustration flees

The thing sinks to the ground

Gently he just picks it up

Patience, he has found