I am as old now as I was when I was a child in my first pair of overalls, standing at the edge of the garden with my face near a flower. I even wear the same smile, a smile a bee might wear if he suddenly discovered he was human. And I am as old as the bee.
I am as old now as I was when the fall parade passed through our town, and I did not wonder where it had been or where it was going. And I am as old as the hand that I held while the music was playing.
Thinking of the little picture in the oval frame on the piano.
My Word, My Age, My Cage
My word, my age, my cage,
I in my singing make a grand life of it.
My dream, my breeze, my wings,
Not one note would I strike from it.
My change, my pain, my breast,
I in my night paint light of it.
My rest, my grace, my end,
I of my death find no strife in it.
My love, my blessed, my friend,
I in glad rage take delight in it.
Recently Banned Literature, August 28, 2015