Bubble Story

Here's a fat thing, a bubble.
Air bobs it.  It flirts with light,
sucks blue from the sky.

It wants to wander, but where?
There's no wind to show a way.
Without a goal to vex it, 
it stays a toy, untroubled.

A dog comes nosing, smelling soap,
then yelps and shies.
The bubble spits a rainbow as it dies.

                                   (photos by RolandasJ, carterse)