I closed my eyes this morning as I strolled,
and sought to sense surroundings without sight.
The air upon my chin was clean and cold.
The chirps of birds were speckles on the white
of 8 a.m., and humming undertones
were laid beneath the traffic symphony
by trimmers clearing gardens of the bones
of winter storms, while chippers ate debris.

I closed my eyes and walked with extra care,
avoiding root upthrusts and pavement flaws.
My lips apart, I masticated air
until my tongue was dry and feeling raw.
I couldn’t taste today, but I could hear
and feel the world my will made disappear.