Bewildered Basket Weaving

How does one behave when nutty
Making baskets and with the bewildered
My life has turned into some putty
Weaving pond frond still unhindered

This my work, my joy, my rapture
Beside a river full of reeds
In and out the pond fronds go
The flowing river is the giver

Baskets full and baskets flowing
I derive my joy in turn
From all the myriads of uses
Bewildered baskets made of fern

Now to end this ode to leaf
A mind half empty not quite there
I beg of thee give me relief
From this quiet morning air