day 176: amble

My walk is off. My body is off. Every move is foreign. My mind finds it hard to smile.

My fingers are crossed: they squeeze in hope that my upper body exertions will excite in me a happy disposition.

I have been blessed to be able to move without inhibition or major complaint for so long; I had forgotten the sad creature I become when I do not exercise.

Thank You for giving me the gift of a corporeal existence.


Body my house
my horse my hound
what will I do
when you are fallen

Where will I sleep
How will I ride
What will I hunt

Where can I go
without my mount
all eager and quick
How will I know
in thicket ahead
is danger or treasure
when Body my good
bright dog is dead

How will it be
to lie in the sky
without roof or door
and wind for an eye

With cloud for shift
how will I hide?

— May Swenson


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