Sometimes there’s a moment when
A rabbit ventures, for the first time, from the warren;
It sees the world for the first time in light,
Taking in the everything that now manifests itself
In the bright and unclouded future.
That was me.
I remember the first time I marveled at a bird
Sitting on the stump of a tree in the woods.
I remember my eye meeting hers and being
Entranced by such humble magnificence.
Little over a minute ago that eye had seen
Sights that earth-bound men could only dream.
To me that sparrow was a seraph from somewhere else,
A messenger of God making contact with me.
Dreams come to an end,
And those first feelings of magic fade away to shadows
Of another life, leaving only the misted memory
Of a sparrow on a stump.
But moments like that do not die;
They remain the living essence of that child in the woods