What is this strange sensation
That adorns my heart,
This strange calm that
Warms my soul?
What is it that makes the morning sing
And every noon an hour to rejoice?
Then there is evening’s gentle voice,
And dreamless sleep complete.
And days are multiplied by
Weeks and years,
As life spells out a tide
Of precious time,
And meaning running deep within.
(August 1968)