You would think that after decades
the world would cease to amaze,
to stop making that voice inside you
whisper, “Look!” But it doesn’t.
Every single year, it brings on spring.
Spring, with her whirl of changing moods,
tossing lightning bolts and wildflowers
and everywhere fresh green.
Last night it was thunder and buckets
of rain. Today, the newly mown path
that circles the wetlands is dry.
But spread on the floor of the woods
to the east, a sudden lake mirrors the sky.
and there it is again, that voice,
whispering “Look!”