I turn on lights surprised
\nby what I see.
\nThat chair that lifted me.
\nHow different the color is today.
\nNot the same chair,
\nnot the same me.
\nHow new the garden is!
\nNot one flower the same.
\nThe unrepeated red
\nof each cardinal flower.
\nWhere does the pigment come from?<\/p>\n
How do first poems get written?
\nWhat catches fire?
\nWhat explains the return
\nof lost coins?
\nThe praying mantis killed by the storm.
\nA little death that left its grief.
\nThen weeks later,
\namong the leaves,
\nstronger than ever.
\nAnother shape for the same alien,
\nor always the same indestructible being?
\nDaring me to believe
\nthat death is a joke
\nplayed on stage.<\/p>\n
Perhaps hour by hour
\nlife lives between the tics and the tocks,
\nlike stirring marbles,
\nfalling in love,
\nas if it never happened
\nbetween the touch of new hands
\nor old,
\nthe encounter of enchantment
\nthrough the eyes.
\nTo live in the first times of eternity,
\nand see the remarkable garden
\nthat grows
\nonce every remarkable day.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I turn on lights surprised by what I see. That chair that lifted me. How different the color is today. Not the same chair, not…<\/p>\n