Frenetic as in frenzied? What virtue lies in being frenzied–
a word from when I worked & cooked & had babies & worked & cooked;
well, you get the idea.
Back then it WAS a virtue that I could sustain a frenzy,
but now? Now I’d just as soon sit back
& watch the frenzied antics of the Golden Crowned Kinglet
as she flit-forages insects from clusters of pine needles
& hangs upside-down from twig tips.
Virtuous & frenetic.
“Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pads, But on the viewless wings of Poesy”–which is to say, nudged by John Keats, the sight of the Golden Crowned Kinglet resonated with me the other day, and I realized that it embodied an activity level I too could ratchet myself up and into; and thereby was set-up to juxtapose said bird and an earlier version of me. (A 420 character 9-line Poem)