Sonnet #1: We Live
To smell the pungent green of a pine forest.
To hear cracked bells and locked doors ringing open.
To taste the mustard-red of morning and climb
like kites tipping, exploring a flash of sky.
To touch the sun-bright yellow of narcissus,
kiss the miracle of time and then to see,
in the dark moments before dawn, a newborn
straighten the crooked walk of an old woman.
Still, as we run our hands along life’s windows,
we may pluck a leaf from an ancient oak’s bough
or grab a rock from an impatient river.
We may stop the flight of birds for an instant,
or forget to watch our grandfathers dancing.
But surely we’ll be forgiven our blindness.
