Blink in the light, newborn,

follow the aspen shivers,

gaze at its reversal

distorted in a wind-ruffled puddle,

glance at impossible blues

variegated in the chinks between leaves.

Where the crown meets sky

glimpse a tender melting of edges,

note the tree exhale cloud,

cloud taste leaf.

* In 1970, when my son was a newborn, we stayed in a cabin on Pender Island, and I would sit outside under aspen trees and watch him, and the trees, willing him to see the beauty around us, to become a person who really “sees”. I try to remember to see daily with newborn eyes!

One Response to “Seeing”

  1. lookingforbeauty Says:

    Whooh! That gives me shivers. Lovely poem!

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