i see beauty
as it comes
from everything.

this is no gift,
there is nothing
special or extraordinary
to it.

watching the leaves'
descent, their smell
after a short rain.

it fills the lead
box in my chest.

i can see it
clearly
and the act
of observation is
a silent comfort.

the cellos slowly saw
the night in half.
i watch the clock
beat out verdicts
against me.

i have everything and
nothing at all.