Meditation While Picking Blackberries

Toddling into life, I soon learned
to balance my body above chubby legs
moving in easy rhythm, a few falls now and then
but only followed by the scramble
to right myself and move on

I cherished grass between toes
busied bent knees to power push cars
raced rusty trikes and finally pedaled
a blue Schwinn up Holmes hill

heedlessly relying on my legs and feet
so it nags a bit that walking now
comes with a certain hesitation
adhesions and numbness replacing
lithe limbs that went on pointe
even tapped their way across a stage

those legs dragging their heels now
post breaks and surgeries so that I plant
feet more solidly in lush grass beneath
glistening blackberries, dutifully wear
right socks right shoes and grudgingly

accept that I won’t be burning brush
in an ice storm come this winter,
take with me now a sturdy walking stick
to jab into ruts on well-worn trails, go out
knowing it’ll soon be time to turn around.