Poetry 124: Looking For Delight

"In my own worst seasons I've come back from the colorless world of despair by forcing myself to look hard, for a long time, at a single glorious thing: a flame of red geranium outside my bedroom window. And then another: my daughter in a yellow dress. And another: the perfect outline of a full, dark sphere behind the crescent moon. Until I learned to be in love with my life again. Like a stroke victim retraining new parts of the brain to grasp lost skills, I have taught myself joy, over and over again."

-Barbara Kingsolver, High Tide in Tucson

 
Looking For Delight

I look for delight,

and it is there.

 

The heat

of the ceramic

tea cup

in  the palm

of my hand.

The purplish-pink hue

of the sky

on the horizon

at dusk.

 

The velvety, soft texture

of the light blue

blanket that is tightly tucked

beneath my chin.

The arrogant orange and white

tom cat who unapologetically

saunters into my yard

to sleep on my deck chair.

The incredible fragrance

of the towering lilac

in the corner

of my backyard.

The first look

at my son’s unspoiled face

in the morning

before the sleep

has left his eyes.

I look for delight,

and it is there.

I look for delight,

because I need to.

-Me