Yes, and BASTA, I do walk in the fields, <br />they are all mine as well as yours, <br />no God that I would ever know <br />would give you rights of exclusivity, <br />to dewdrops, grass and sticky clay. <br /> <br />I'm one with all the things I see, <br />the rabbit hiding, thinking he can fool <br />a teacher's eyes and keen perception? <br />I step around the living things and splash <br />inside the puddles from the recent rain, <br />no one can see me now, I am that child <br />that you, my precious parents snatched away! <br /> <br />Away from the joys <br />and the hand-me-down toys, <br />from the worms in all pockets <br />and the spiders in shoes, <br />and the trips to the pantry <br />to the desk in the den <br />for cigars and Sarotti <br />and the booklet of nudes <br />all the photos of Jan <br />with her Austrian dudes. <br />I do talk to the hoppers <br />in the greenest of grass <br />and no critter avoids me <br />not one ever has. <br />I have leapt into manhood <br />with the kick of your boots <br />and I think that the devil <br />was with you in cahoots.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/morning-solitude/
