Saturday, January 17, 2015

Child Run

The saddest day is when the child chooses not to run
but to walk, to simply move from one locale to another,
without any shift of speed, without that glorious bristle of muscle fibers
catapulting gravity, weaving past furnishings, big people,
over rock, roots,, shifts in linoleum,  around the Best Toys, 
weirdly equal to the Worst, as impediments to an inner velocity - 
Child with unspeakable knowledge that to move fast is to be superb,
no future drug will ever match it,  superbeing wheeling
joy, the bird of your mind on an updraft spiral,
never hungry or tired,
just tearing  air, or,
crisp tissue

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