Each piece of the whole makes you—
each drop of rain, each shell,
each singing sparrow, and returning robin.
Each part of creation tells you who you are.
Where you came from is another country
where sight and sound were never born.
Each moment here belongs to you today,
each orange, each worn page, each stone.
This is the birthday of your senses.
Rejoice in the sound of wheels through rain,
the geese returning, the finch’s song.
Rejoice in the first lilac bud.
Don’t sigh. Outside there is more life
than this room full of books contains.
Go walking in the spring rain.
You’ll remember where you came from,
you’ll remember your forgotten sense—
how good it is to be here.
About this Poem
Lori Austen has an English degree from Queen’s University and a Graduate certificate from The Humber School for Writers. She has had writing published in various literary magazines including The Fiddlehead, Green’s Magazine and White Wall Review. In 2020 she received a Sakura award in the Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival’s Haiku Invitational. She is working on completing a book of poetry and a book of short stories. She lives in Kingston, Ontario.
