Days Without Direction

I do so well (and badly) remember those days without direction,
When I was unsure of my destiny and confident in lack of destination,
Coolly sipping the warming bottle to ward off bitter drafts of wind.
Into increasing unbelonging I would helplessly blend.
Now when I feel the chill outside and walk -- a block or mile --
I remember my distant, directionless days, and for many reasons smile.