Jane Ellen Glasser, Woman with Crows
A Spring in My Step
Jane Ellen Glasser
Today there was a spring in my step.
The sun threw down a spotlight,
trailing me as my feet decided
my path. Everything was in its right
place: butterfly, squirrel, a man
with his dog. I touched every tree
I passed, calling them by name–
foxtail, pony tail, with the familiarity
I would use to greet a relative.
I connected to every blade of grass,
to the children scuffling in the street,
to every man and woman I passed.
Today there was a spring in my step
as if powered by a remote in the hand
of a god, so that my going, O rare
event, was like a leaf riding the wind.
Jane Ellen Glasser
Today there was a spring in my step.
The sun threw down a spotlight,
trailing me as my feet decided
my path. Everything was in its right
place: butterfly, squirrel, a man
with his dog. I touched every tree
I passed, calling them by name–
foxtail, pony tail, with the familiarity
I would use to greet a relative.
I connected to every blade of grass,
to the children scuffling in the street,
to every man and woman I passed.
Today there was a spring in my step
as if powered by a remote in the hand
of a god, so that my going, O rare
event, was like a leaf riding the wind.