My Georgian World

Georgia winds.
Oh! Georgia winds.

Oh, to be a cow
up there on that hill
Stolid, strong and stout.
Immovable.

Or, to be,
a lank, slender blade of grass,
tall and supple,
bendable and flexible.

Or, maybe a tree,
roots deep in the earth,
Wide, wide branches spread so, waving
Madly,
gladly,
in the wind.

To be something other than a cyclist
Who yet must contain
all those qualities—of the cow, grass & tree—
Within a single skin,

A framework of nerve, muscle, bone and blood.

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