It’s a joy smelling to high heavens
At day’s end, tending my garden
Dressed in mud
Kissed by the sun

It’s a joy singing old tunes
Alone, in a crowd
Loosing the key midway
Pulling it off anyways

It’s a joy dancing naked
Before my most feared critic
Peaking at myself in a
Horror-struck vanity mirror

It’s a joy being silent
When all else profound
A frog, yellow bellied
Dozing off on a lotus leaf

It’s a joy being loud
When the world dumbfounds
A crow rising at dawn
Training its vocal muscle

It’s a joy, letting fingers roam
Whenever they insist on
As I inscribe in earnest
My holy viewpoint