Hair In The Wind

`

Brown in the sun
of the midday born
Silken strands
of crested corn

sparks light the sky
brilliant welder's flash
jewel in disguise
jouster's winning prize.

Jack was nimble
he was quick
but he's not taking
that candlestick.

All the queen's horses
and all the queen's men
run their own courses
then run them again.

`

poem by Frederick Kesner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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