The dance, this year
Is not a line-dance
Nor a quick-step
And certainly not a waltz
I do not pick up the leaf
To twirl it in the sunlight
I do not read this year’s
Inspirational Book of Days
But I do
Rearrange the bookshelves
Move myself one step closer
To knowing who I am
The walks, this year
Are not meditations
Or pastoral observations
Neither do they go to my writing seat
I do not sit and gaze
Or contemplate a cigarette
As a means, if nothing less
Of beginning a conservation
But I do
Write these few lines
Hold myself together
As a signal to my true faith
