Once, Rachmaninov, composed a song lauding
spring’s arrival in all its variegated colors.
You, too, have seen these everyday
colors, worn smooth as coins in your eyes.
You, too, have seen these everyday colors-
blue of sky, green of grass and leaf
bursting as stars upon your eyes,
in such shimmering newness
they appear Platonic.
Rachmaninov experienced these colors.
You, too, experience these colors now.
And to be taken by these thoughts:
that a cosmos of such staggering immensity,
harmony exists between the Sun’s explosive enormity
and the primrose’s wind quivered fragility.
That a song may mediate
awe between those who share no
common time, tongue, or place.
That there exists this singularly unique animal
who takes leave of the narrow necessities
toward the overflowing extravagances
of song, praise, and wonder.
Yes, these thoughts now come upon you
like a child’s euphoria
before an unexpected celebration,
a celebration of the prodigality of existence.