Wilderness

There is a wildness in me,
As in the trees and birds that sing their song
No matter how sweet the song.
Uncharted, ungraphed, unplanned
Wildness.
As in the creek that swelled and hurled its way
Down the hill,
While the laurel bloomed in a storm by the mill.
I will not be shaped.
I will not be still.
I give vent to the wildness in me,
To baying and to howling,
To singing and to loving.
It was at my source, my heredity,
This wildness in me.