As I walked out this morning
caressed by a light-fingered breeze,
the fat clouds piled above me
like mounds of sweetened cream.
Anticipation led my feet,
an urge to rediscover
what neither age nor weariness
should dominate nor smother.
As I walked I saw nine ducks
splashing in a pond.
I thought: I’ve seen these ducks before
and so continued on.
And as I walked I heard two hawks
calling to each other
I thought: I’ve heard those calls before
and so continued on.
And as I walked I smelled the grass
that morning newly mown.
I thought: I’ve smelled cut grass before
and so continued on.
All the usual sensations
surrounded me this day;
a passable delight, I thought,
numbed by my sluggish brain.
Then as if slapped by an unruly wave
my soul snapped to attention;
no longer apart but commingled
with the forces that shape my intention.