Poem June 11, 1984 Issue

Toe tapper

JUDITH M. CHAPMAN

Well, I'm going!
and go, my way, I do.
Uphill, downhill.
Unsure? Sure.
But I can find my way.

Until I can't.

My feet want their rug back.
They stomp,
and only dust flies.
Digging in, they mire—
stubbed and stopped.

Is going, gone?
What now ...?

And with that, God says, "This way"
and at last, I'm coming.
Loving and loosing,
You carry me, Father, closely.
Standing me,
You love-lift my steps
... because it's Your glad way.

Leaping! You have me
joy-kicking my heels
and toe tapping
Your jubilant tune.

JUDITH M. CHAPMAN

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Thinking and its effects
June 11, 1984
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