Who Do You Want To Be In

When It's Over I Don't Want To Wonder If I Have Made Of My Life Something Particular, And Real.

Ten Times A Day Something Happens To Me Like This - Some Strengthening Throb Of Amazement - Some Good Sweet Empathic Ping And Swell. This Is The First, The Wildest And The Wisest Thing I Know: That The Soul Exists And Is Built Entirely Out Of Attentiveness.

Around Me The Trees Stir In Their Leaves And Call Out, Stay Awhile.

A Poet's Interest In Craft Never Fades, Of Course.

I Saw That Worrying Had Come To Nothing And Gave It Up. And Took My Old Body And Went Out Into The Morning, And Sang.