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Sprung Clean Written for the March Year 3 topic of "Sonnet on Spring"

It had sprung clean of the confine like a caged
animal that had been writhing around
wildly; uncontrollably enraged.
The cage – still, door – ajar; without a sound.

It was gone like a gun shot lightning fast
and couldn’t be found neither here nor there.
It did not appear, that this would last,
but it wouldn’t return, back to its lair.

It hid at the periphery of sight
with only the very top of its head
visibly aglow from the black by light.
With only the very top of its head

in view it wasn’t gone; nor was it here,
so what happens next just is not so clear.
 


© Sam Cunningham, March 2009