Running though the field of green, yellow, and brown
Hanging in mid air, waiting, waiting, and waiting-----for what?
Throwing my arms, and slinging my net over my shoulder from the ground
What do we wait for?
What is this thing called life?
Can’t be a butterfly, can it?
Stumbling, climbing over the ground strewn with boulders
Net in hand, suspense waits for no one
Holding my breath, taught limbs and shoulders
Scratched, I aimlessly thrash about the foliage
Looking, looking, and looking for what this thing is we call life
Swing the net far and wide, make the move, and show the courage