At the sight of I know not what,
something — or, maybe, someone —pointed out by his grinning granny,

I saw a boy run in place,

overcome by enthusiasm from the waist down —
like a cherubic Michael Flatley sans the coordination, but with exuberance to spare.

At the sight of the boy,
I couldn’t help but ask myself when my idle setting got turned down so low.

Surely, once upon a time, there was something that so excited me that my limbs bypassed central control and spastically did their own thing…

but I can’t remember when.