I used to be a sedentary child.
My father called me vegetable, the noun
both apt and mean, for though my thoughts were wild,
ranging fantasies, I hunkered down
inside my room, declined activities,
and read and ate and dreamed all through my youth.
Such stillness now contains too little ease,
a skimpy rest, and leads me to a truth
about myself I guess I must receive.
For in the last five years or so I’ve found
I’m liking action more than I believed
before, and wanting most to move around.
Fastidious fanatic, I may yet
learn how to savor all that makes me sweat.