What if the greatest gift
      you could receive this day
            was not your successful siezure
                  of a split-second gap
                        in traffic, tied up with chance
                              and ego and adrenaline
                                    and a sense of having pulled
                                          one off as it would be,
But instead the realization that for
      the first time in your forty-eight years
            you have really seen black locusts in bloom
                  and rushed up to
                        smell them
                              and understood that the
                                    humid scent of
                                          spring
That heralds winter's true end each year
Has not been your imagination, but comes after all
      from the shifting of the jet stream north,
            the resulting first advance after winter of tropical air
                  rousing half a continent with its breath
                        of verdancy and renewal?

Such a daydream!
Ah
There is a door back to the rudderless Day you
      know:
An uncancelled stamp
A parking meter with unused time

Who, comfortable in that world, will be capable
      of parsing your news
            when sudden unitive perception
                  of the Absolute seizes you
                        like a found penny
And pockets you forever,
Alive in the wakefulness that is our true birthright
Your life's work of living your own illimitable love
Your one true,
      inestimable
Fortune?