INSTINCT

I have come to wash the world from my eyes
and look upon the plain face
of the high meadows,
to travel the roads where morning mist
flows furtively between trees
and the aspens-those spindly sisters-
shaking their frivolous hairdos,
whisper together.
I will live where the day knows me not
and at night the big wind comes to dance
with the straight young pines.
Here with the lion, the fox and the deer
I will open my hands,
lift my face
and whatever the world does
I will not cry.

			Lucille Murphy