Song to Self
Thoreau went to the woods to live deliberately
I go to work with foggy intentionMy little girl runs with a pitter-patter
her right arm locked in a bend, left arm swingingimagination changed its focal point in the last ten years
Three children, a degree, promotions, demotions, additional jobs
A war, recession, divorces all aroundyet the breeze still blows on me
Life doesn’t just press on
fluttering sound in the wind not yet
dead and fallen
a sound of life in the air and substance
it shines on
I just need to know
how to look