You walk to work each morning, in a way –
a mile to the train and then a ride –
and often that’s the best part of your day:
a gentle trek when you can look inside
yourself, articulate and plow the air
as fresh as rain with purpose and with pride.
You feel as if you cleave the atmosphere,
like Moses come to separate the tide.
Impelled by anger, joy or other frame
of mind, you travel on the fullest length
of both your legs – you’re striding and you’re game
for any path that demonstrates your strength.
Around you harried drivers thumb controls
of wont, and hunch within their cars like moles.