Shooting the breeze

A body of thoughts and feelings
          fed by the blood of sunlight
a body that moves erratically
          along a predetermined path
a body that knows when to stop
          to admire a rose or to stroke a dog

a body given up to the intensities
          of work and the leisure of love
one that lives in defiance
          of the seasons and dreams only
of moonlight and a warm bed
          in which to lie  A body

stripped of all ambition
          other than to breathe
the wholesome country air
          and count the beats of its heart

John Lyons