Place those words carefully
Like bricks
Laid by knowing hands
In the optimal positon
In that structure of the mind.
Solid, stolid, strong
Paving stone of the yellow brick road
Guiding along the route
The burdened little sentence pony
Of determined mien
Sometimes saddle sore
And not always sure footed.
The industrious ants of progress or
The tumbleweeds of poets
Otherwise rolling aimlessly
Directed by crosswinds,
Each brick hardened by fire, a word-
Tempered by thought,
Linked by the mortar of change.