If I Were a Poet

Look at the flowers—
the yellow one, the white one, the
this one like the sun,
that one like a star, the—
oh my God it’s a bee!
I’ve never seen anything like it!

Last week,
in a hospital room,
I watched a sneak preview of coming attractions.
I was about to rent the show,
when a hand pulled me back.

Now everything
that was ordinary is
wonderful beyond belief.
That squirrel, look at its tail,
the sound of windchimes
and someone saying “time for dinner,”
and that hand still holding mine
is the most beautiful hand
in the most beautiful world.