Impatient was the word I used to use
to indicate that eagerness, the rush
to put ideas in play. You must excuse
my ignorance (I know enough to blush
for it). I cannot be a patient one;
I won’t sustain in silence injury.
I’m antsy for the game to start. I run
in place. I sitting fidget. Manic me.

As flighty as a butterfly I’ll sip
a thousand flowers. Long as I’m alive
I’ll fickle flit, I’ll dart and soar and dip
and then I’ll climb as high again to dive,
investigating every shape I find
and leaving little passages behind.