Sometimes joy just spills out from me & and I sing (sort of), and I dance (even when some can see me!), and create art (well it's art to me), and love. Joy down in my heart & spilling out to all who would catch it.
I want to think again of dangerous and noble things. I want to be light and frolicsome. I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing, as though I had wings. (from Starlings in Winter - a poem by Mary Oliver)