Rondeau 7

An absurd amount of time has gone by since I last posted a poem. More time, in fact, than I thought, until I checked the date of my previous post. Poetry can sometimes get away from me when I am immersed in my other writing responsibilities and interests, and I regret that. But that being said, here is the latest rondeau. (Yes, I a still on that format.) Given the long hiatus I may write my usual ten of these, or I may move on to another form after this one. Whatever I do, I will try not to take six months to do it this time!

*

I still believe in tiny things.
The magic when a robins sings,
The ballet of a falling leaf.
The folks who serve and give no grief
And cats that swat at battered strings.

Yes, even when the skinned knee stings.
Despite the cell that never rings.
The winter months before all springs
I still believe.

I need not trade my place with kings
Or hide beneath an angel's wings
To find what's worthy of belief.
This faith of mine has sharper teeth.

I still believe.