CHALLENGE by JANIE SMITH RHYNE

My attic is strewn with rubbish --
Broken adventurings.
My wood-yard is heaped with wreckage --
Twisted aeroplane wings.

When Life, like a teasing woman,
Flings a "Follow-me-if-you-dare!"
In a trice I have snapped my moorings
To fly with a "devil-may-care."

Now, slow brown seeds are sprouting
Within my garden patch
And plump gray pigeons nesting
Beneath my eaves of thatch;

But, tonight, should that taunting challenge
Blow in on a hissing gale,
I'd chuck my pipe at my watch-dog
And swing out on a comet's tail!

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