And so was I thus made by my master's hands,
wrapped in feather's, buck tail and silk,
designed to mirror his master plan
--to trick fate, be clever and aloof
--to fain modesty, to elude
and delight their eyes,
a charm flung here and there.
Willed by fate and willing, too
be there only praise.
And along the way I did see
to my left and to my right
suspended in another kind of flight
those made of the real thing,
free from grand illusion, loss or gain,
genuine (though mortal).
And once!--was it a line left idle?
No! 'twas nibbled and taken deep below
depositing me thus between nook and stone.
And my master he did tug,
but from afar, but from afar,
and there I lay, and there I lay
until the tension ceased
and he tugged no more
And then I did begin to envy from between
my nook and stone
those still fluttering high above
while waiting for a tremor down below
or some violent flood
to send me on once more
rolling along to where the crayfish crawls
ambivalent to any cause
to be once more, willed by fate
--willed by fate and nothing more.