Is it ever too late to be circumspect-select?*
I asked myself.

My semi-permeable state
invites distasteful items to my plate.

These careless hands of me
are flying all about,
opening all the gates.

And who or what has called to order, set opinion,
filed judgment, if not something
of a lie and a hatred?

Tries to tells me who I am
and says: this and that is what
I should rather be doing.

At my frosty age, be a man.
Get that straight.

And when I have seen hands of others
come, wishing to be as helpful,
they flash their passports at my door.

I shall deliberate and trust
the simple and silent
dominions of my house.

Practice.

What is it that I shall practice?
I'll not tell more.