His Grace
In his own and complete
world he’s taken his time
to be a winter man.
Skating over ice
he can handle himself
with graceful turns.
In the spring he
runs by and can enjoy
all the newly “sprung.”
In summer, swimming—
he’s Neptune
in a watery paradise.
In the autumn
with gentleman moves
on the floor, he’s a “Fred Astaire.”
He can handle any dance rhythm.
He seems to know the seasons.
He’s not been left behind.
With his pen he moves
well with iambic feet.
In his world
what will he not master?
And then—I see the birds.