Slow down, he says.
Find your place slowly.
Speed must be for spurts,
I think, then,
because his words,
not just the content,
sound husky, dry,
learned, like corn
in the wind.
I see him see
what he sees,
hear what he hears,
walk what he walks.
I think then, yes,
speed must be for spurts—
a call for the swift,
deft swing of the sword,
timely, not over-employed.
Walk it, don’t talk it.
People will know
you’re coming. 

–Allan Cox