IF ONLY I COULD FIND THE KEY

To unlock the doors hiding my way of existing instead of living—
I might dance my way of walking, sing instead of talking,
and make washing the dishes, a visit to Niagara Falls.
I’d compose a comic opera about the infirmities of growing old,
and see the world as if for the first time. I’d allow all my senses to open new paths
that no longer depend on habit to be my guide as I discover a swashbuckling flair for a glimpse
into the transcendent—worthy of astonishment— liberating me to be awake in a way I have
never been, breathing like a sated baby, feeling the texture of a hickory leaf,
and harmonizing with bird songs that keep all the daffodils in my garden dancing with joy.