I HAVE CRAZY FEET
Leave me off one moment, let me wallow free,
let my happy fissures seep with glee. My crazy feet
are calling me. I will thwart and run my self to off
the wayward fen - walking hard and wild will I be.
-
As Wordsworth put it : 'my heart leaps up when I
behold a rainbow in the sky: so was it when my life
began; so is it now I am a man.' It goes on, but
that still works - and why not would it? Once I
was five now I am sixty and five and more - what
shades pass for night now bequeath me no living;
and it all must be done on its own.
-
The thrush in the treetop, the winnowing bird, it
whispers 'over, friend, over', and then swirls away.
Would that I could be what they are always : wild
distant, running, busy, free. I do have crazy feet.
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