O you are so solid.
Angles sharp. Divinely defined.
On one end you’re stolid.
But lying worse than blind.
While I’m a flighty string
still wishing to attach.
Flakey me rubs a ring
to soothe or to hatch.
Are you not budging?
Let me smooth you out.
Wrap around and nudging.
Make you silly putty or grout.
This room looks so messy.
Who’s going to sweep up?
We sun under beams of plenty.
First one up is a duck!