That life’s a miracle, I soon forget,
Yet what could be more wondrous to behold?
In all the universe, what would you bet,
There’s not another being in our mold,
Perhaps no living creature anywhere?
Yet I, myopically, ignore that view
Not seeing Earthly life as rich and rare,
Until some loss reminds me it is true.
It takes calamity to wake me up
And recognize what I have always known,
Or beauty can—a flower, a bird’s chirrup
At dawn, enlightening as a cryptic koan.
To be awake to wonder all the day
Is how to live, as ancient sages say.