Penelopeanne Dalgleish
The Pagan Child
I am
Skipping to and fro
Across the shopping street,
Slipping between shoals of plastic bags
(Upstream; downstream). They don't
Notice the fresh taste
Of rain.
I was
Ages on the boat,
Went somewhere to somewhere
From nowhere to nowhere with no one
But seagulls to talk to,
Breathing what I had
Fresh air.
I am
Pressing my brown nose
On a cafe window.
A smiling mad-lady lets me have
One cinnamon biscuit
Which tastes of the full
Fat earth.
I will
Carry on spinning,
Never, ever stay still,
But explore, get into everything.
My wide eyes will reflect
Lights from a million
Campfires.
I am
Away back across
The glistening wet street now.
The figures of my dancing make up
The one and only sum
That matters at all
To me.
Page(s) 43-44
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