Robert Verdon, #12, Cradle Song

to be read quickly in one breath

When I was small

I knew the world

flowed through me

and was me and yet

much more and I

breathed it and ate it

and no policeman would

shoot me for that

in the bluebells

even though we were

poor and had never had

it so good

under the moon and the

theatre-in-the-round

in-the-round in-the-

round and round and round

of the

boundless, soundless universe —

and I still do.