The Bouncing It

The Bouncing It


He bounces to walls
Like little bouncing balls,
Up and down
All around.

I watch him like a tennis match,
That sometimes is like a game of catch,
From dawn to nightfall,
From daybreak to dusk,
It never runs out of energy
It has its own strategy,

In the air
Through the wind,
Between the falling leaves,
And out in the scorching sun.

When there is rain and snow
And no one has even strength to blow,

He is out there.

He is, my little bouncing it.



(Thank you avidpoet!)