Look—even when there is nothing to see
Listen when silence falls.
The fragrance evoked by the wind through the leaves
Is elusive, and yet it enthralls.
The taste of blue in a conch shell of pink
Swells the morning sky.
It’s the nectar that praising angels drink
As they sing in the dawn’s honeyed light.
Finger a moonbeam, a soft strand of sun
Then let it slip through your hands.
Sensation so subtle it scarcely seems real
Flings open the door to faraway lands.
Beyond perception, in the realm of dreams,
Intangible solids flow
Like the swell of the tide
Ebbing in, streaming out—
Intuition relates what the mind cannot know.
Published in Poems