Thought is the oddest word.
Simply it starts and stretches taut.
Between noises nothing’s heard
except the thou and the ought.
Unless you look hard and long
your mouth will open in awe
and catch a fly or a song
in light of tender and raw.
So keep chewing through mazey days
till Daisy May balls the craze.
Or stare wide and swallow whole
that butterfly and her mole.