About Keys Poem by Liilia Talts Morrison

There was a man of unknown deeds
No cover shielded his bare head
His home at night a patch of weeds
On byways found his daily bread

When noonday sun seared roots and reeds
He sat among hard cypress knees
For shade a canopy of trees
This man who had no need for keys

Gaunt, lanky like some Southern pines
In winter frost and summer breeze
He made his nest among the vines
Of mangroves edging shallow seas

He walked with grace much like a deer
His kind blue eyes put one at ease
And hearts would warm when they were near
This man who had no need for keys

When rains came he would disappear
Some people wondered how he fared
Then on a gray November day
He'd be there sitting by the bay

'Where is your home? ' some dared to ask
'I have none, ' was his shy reply.
'The world spins round about so fast
In rooms with doors I'd surely die.'

The seasons saw a changing land
Trees were no longer needed here
Dark woodlands cut, rich earth turned sand
There was no time to stop and care
For creatures of the open air

New houses came with shiny doors
Bright plants soon lent an air of ease
It was quite plain to see, of course
This was a place for folks with keys

They never saw that man again
Who walked as gently as a deer
With eyes so kind, like a good friend
Who had no wallet, keys or fear

In wandering the path of life
There are a few whose tracks unfold
Bypassing cunning, greed and strife
Who brave harsh storms in heat and cold
Whom walls, nor doors, nor keys can hold.