Legs

Legs

I used to grumble about legs—
mine don’t work well.

But now I think
how wonderful they are:
to perambulate all around,
wherever I wish.

I can say, I will go there,
and the legs say, okay,
and off we go,

movement steered by brain.

And so we enjoy the Shannon,
and the park,
and shopping—well, maybe not.

And then the legs
get me home.

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