Catch it

On a fine day I
toss my net
and through it escapes
the birds and the small mammals
the branches of the trees
and gravel of the path

So I retreat to my study
to weave the net again
tighten the grid
and strengthen the twine

I study my craft
and practice my sport
to some I tutor and from some am taught

Until next time when I
throw my net of words
and the dew of the morning
and lights first rays
the motes of the air
and the sap of the trees
escape me

So I retreat to my study