Special Agent, Iota
Inspiration hits with a flash, stories written on the go. A rumble of laughter and the tale is heard only in echoes. The wind blows me in a new direction. Whom shall I visit next?
The smallest agent, I:
The jot-and-tittle spy.
At times I can't be seen,
Both placid and serene.
At other times, a glimpse
Is seen. Like elves or imps
I flutter into view;
I'll not get caught by you!
.
I hide among the blooms
In fancy dining rooms
In danger, I draw thistle
And pack a pollen pistil!
But seldom is there danger
Beside a sweet hydrangea.
I see all that you do;
I'll ne'er be caught by you!
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