The fresh thought of wanting
The eagerness of eating an ice cream cone
Hastens arrival of summer
As if it can be done by magical gestures
I’m thinking of supernatural, the miraculous.
I will fold my hands
And sit still, in silence.
There are those extraordinary hours
When you feel the approach of the beautiful
The moments when imagination is at its sharpest
When you see only clarity
Awe can be incomprehensible.
The ice cream is melting
The buds remain buried under the snow
I’m running very fast to catch reality
And tie it down.
Where are you?
edgarone2