Don't think me unscathed, but,
I have decided to love beautiful things:
like carefully aged fidelity, now wrinkled,
and that diamond flare of mercy when it stoops;
the first hard curl of a question,
and the waiting space before the dot;
the yellow speckled underneath of fern fronds,
and narrow paths in woods where deer have walked.
And I will honor gentle things:
like the first pale petal windfall of the spring,
and the sound of women singing while they work;
the humble arc of true believers praying,
and grooms' eyes, deepened, just before the kiss;
wine-dark plum of winter shawls and hellebores,
and fine bone china, milk and coffee, hot against the lips.