In so many ways the sail
Lassoes the rushing flail
She holds the wind by hand
As it tries to push at her band
Woven tales to engross
Lest it direction toss
A nimble mother deer
Herding direction steer
Almost a trampoline
No bounce just vaseline
The gust that does her meet
Monkeying is set straight
Funny the smile for a comic
On point timely ergonomic