steve a. manolis poet

being

 

had I not seen the autumns of Vermont and New Hampshire

a kaleidoscope of rainbows floating in the crisp October breeze

had I not been to the vast flowing Saint Lawrence rushing towards Niagara

and onwards to the great open seas of the North Atlantic

had I not climbed the alps in the remotest parts of Europe where rivers fall

great depths along the cliffs, or the snow capped Eiger rising

to meet the heavens where angels sing in sweet lullabies.

Had I not breathed the scent of morning washed in lilac fields

and witnessed thousands upon thousands of hummingbirds

Dancing a frantic winged dance upon the flowered-forests of Trinidad

Or walked through some secret garden in a remote area of Long Island,

With paths covered by spider webs glittering like diamonds, dew laden in early morning

hoping, one might imagine, for some tasty morsel to come fluttering in.

had I not been touched by the beauty of the sunset upon the western face

of New Mexico’s southern rockies, kissing the dusk of another day, and living majestically

upon a painted desert, long ago covered beneath some ancient sea whence first life abound

how could I have known the sweet taste of your beauty melting deep my soul?