Words I

The words that don't hit-the-ground-running are oft,
like transluscent ideas floating featherlikesoft,
lacking substance in their glide aloft,
ethereally luminous in their promise.
Sometimes words are like tornadoes whip-bound,
to twistyturn and suckupall that is rooted in ground,
highthrown flight and chaos in their sound,
savage, severe, tempestuous.
There are words in the darkness of a room closed to air,
of old things to preserve, to be uttered with care,
delicacy, proprietary, politeness reigns here,
lightly touched truths too light for an ear.