where is the worry, the care, let it fall from me: the knot in the bone, the wrench of the stomach, the tight musculature that is so stretched it does not know another state - let the clear soft wind bend me let the sound of the swallows and the swifts free me, let the hot sun clarify me, let all the things around me be a cradle as if I were rocked and young knowing nothing except softness against the skin and a kind facenext poem