YOU ARE
I HEAR YOU
IN THE CRY OF THE GULL
IN THE WIND CHASING THE LAST LEAVES OF FALL
IN THE WHISPER OF A CHILD
I SEE YOU
IN THE ANIMAL SHAPES OF CUMULUS CLOUDS
IN THE TREES TEN TIMES MY AGE
IN THE WRINKLED FACE OF A WOMAN OVER NINETY
I TASTE YOU
IN THE SWEETNESS OF WHOLE WHEAT IN BLACK BREAD
IN THE SMOOTH RICHNESS OF AN AVOCADO
IN THE CREEK WATER FROM A CUPPED HAND
I SMELL YOU
IN THE AIR AFTER A CLEANSING RAIN
IN THE FRESLY CUT GREEN ONION
IN THE THICK CARPET OF AUTUMN LEAVES
I TOUCH YOU
IN THE SMOOTH BARK OF A WHITE BIRCH
IN THE ROCK BENEATH THE SUMMIT TEARING MY HANDS
IN THE TEXTURE OF WET AND DRY SAND
I READ YOUR LETTERS TO ME
IN THE TALKING EYES OF A STUDENT
IN THE JOY OF SHARED GRIEF
IN THE APPROPRIATE PHRASE RELEASING TENSION
IN THE SILENCE THAT FOLLOWS THE STORM
IN THE PLUNGE OF A SUICIDE
IN THE NOVELIST CREATING HIS CHARACTERS
IN THE TEAR CRIED IN SELF-PITY
IN THE TELEPHONE THAT NEVER RINGS
IN THE LIFE-CYCLE OF A SALMON
IN THE CANDLE FLAME THAT DIES IN ITS OWN WAX
IN THE WHITE CANE OF A BLIND MAN
IN THE EMPTY CHURCHES
IN THE BEGGARS MOUTH ORGAN
IN THE UNFINISHED SYMPHONY AND THE UNPAINTED PICTURE
TEACH ME TO HEAR AND TO SEE
TEACH ME TO TASTE, TO SMELL, AND TO TOUCH
AND TEACH ME TO READ
TO READ YOUR HANDWRITING
YOUR LETTERS TO ME
