Today I woke in the dark and was busy
making lunches during the sunrise,
though surely it happened. And I drove
in the low morning light along
the San Miguel River for half an hour,
not once noticing the color of the water,
the scent on the banks, though past
experience leads me to believe
that there were thousands, millions,
of tiny beautiful miracles happening
there in that half hour alone. How much
beauty is lost on me every day, every moment?
Though as I stepped out of the car
to walk into work, I saw, stuck to my boot, one
brilliant orange aspen leaf outlined in gold,
and for a whole minute, I stared at it,
marveled at its symmetrical veins,
its delicate stem, the astonishing intricacy
of its edges. How easily gloriousness finds us, sticks
to us even. How wholly available, this art
of meeting the glittering, luminous world.
