I am a good walker

Walking mile on mile through blue air

It goes everywhere I go, pale green

Winter wheat under bare heels

Rivers of wind, high oak wind

Pine wind, then low down

It rushes through blades

Filaments arc with held green flame

Currents pulse through fields

The field stammers green and gold, sheets of flame

It sparkles in my mouth like wine

This distilled lucid blue around me, filling me

I whistle a hawk, a hawk whistles me

Sings a song to sustain him in flight forever

No thing shall die as I walk