Not every day
is a good day
for tinkerbell, the fairy.
Some days
the stolen green cloth
reveals what it
was made for:
a handsome flimsy froth
or the jerkin
of an angel so contrary.
Other days
our tinkerbell
sees a bottle of green guinness
in her mind
and sets about
to find a costume of adequate thinness.
But some days
neither the drink idea
nor the green material
presents itself;
and these are
the hard days
for our angel, our tinkerbell.