LEGS hold a torso away from the earth.
And a regular high poem of legs is here.
Powers of bone and cord raise a belly and lungs
Out of ooze and over the loam where eyes look and ears hear
And arms have a chance to hammer and shoot and run motors.
You make us
Proud of our legs, old man.

And you left off the head here,
The skull found always crumbling neighbor of the ankles.

Poet: Carl Sandburg
Poem: 11. The Walking Man of Rodin
Volume: Chicago Poems
- Chicago Poems
Year: Published/Written in 1912
Poem of the Day: Feb 12 2002

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