I sit to contemplate and loose my mind,
Which roves and ranges like a wandering dog
Scouring the landscape in keen hopes to find
Some hidden tidbit stashed behind a log
Or sniff the traces of some lurking cat
Malingering beneath a bush or shrub,
Brazen enough to hiss and start a spat
For, ah, the joy of such a grand hubbub!
Such contemplating, it turns out, is not
So unadventurous an activity;
Even if practiced in a cave or grot,
It prompts imagination’s ecstasy
And escapades beyond the dull mundane
Above this lower to a higher plane.