Wild Life

  I've spent my years, secure, sedate,
  My fork at five upon my plate,
  The curtains chosen for the walls.
  And every evening, darkness falls
  On time, on cue. The shadows lie
  In order when they snag my eye.
  My desk is swept of dust. My lawn
  Borders on order, neatly shorn.
  I sit beneath my quiet roof,
  Alone, apart, askance, aloof,
  And turn my shuttered face away
  From portraits placed upon display
  By parents latterly deceased,
  Their every photograph uncreased.
  There's one especially I shun:
  A figure, riotous in sun,
  Of unkempt bliss, a flailing child
  In ecstasy. It drives me wild.

From Rime Present