Warm Spring Eternal

Day Thirteen


I am grateful our senses can remember
Or if it is not they themselves,
They at least notice and interpret
Drawing from stored experience in our minds

For I can enjoy
The pleasure given by warm spring afternoons
Without having to think or analyze—
The enjoyment just simply is

I can be at once
Six years old and cuddling my baby,
Running through the yard with my children
And exploring a forest path with my husband,
Our children grown

And what if
When our lives come to a close
And we pass into a new mode of being,
The pleasure of each warm spring afternoon
Experienced in a lifetime
Will be accessible
Even if not consciously classified,
Called into experience
By what unimaginable catalyst?