10-Line Tuesday

March 2, 2010

less lamb, more lion

 

They told me March would enter viciously, but aside
from the storm pummeling my roof, I feel too tame
for my own good, circling the corral when the wide
veld beckons just beyond. I want my legs to aim
for that horizon but the feet themselves are more shuffle
that sprint. I shouldn’t complain. I should consider any act
of movement progress. And yet, my body wants speed, thrill,
dominion over the fields, and so a pain – poignant and exact –
hits me deep in the chest. It takes almost everything I have to wait
until the right time comes. I walk my patient rounds, eyes steady on the gate.