What glorious sensations –
Morning, perfume, tree bark, fingers, rain, time,
Air, wonderful air, filling my chest.
Who are you, oh, tender, loving presence,
To trouble my soul –
To take all that I have away and make it yours?
And why shouldn’t I love you back –
Why shouldn’t I walk with you,
Why shouldn’t I steal the sound from your voice
And the breath from your lips?
I wake and run after you,
With guile and determination
As the tiger, not as the deer.
And by all the morning’s light, by all my time to come, by all the beauty in the world,