I find it an amazing thing
that I can experience a thing –
see, smell, hear, taste, or touch it
(or by whate’er combination of these senses, know it),
and then imagine it;
that is, think of the thing
and suddenly see, smell, hear, taste, or touch it again.
I do not know how this works.
Is it because ‘neath or behind everything
there is the idea of the thing
waiting to be imagined?
Or is it because the idea of thing
that waits to be imagined, truly, is remembered,
for first it hath been experienced?
I don’t think it matters.
At least, not to me.
For on this February day,
the sky o’ercast and grey…
I think ahead to winter’s sooner-or-later end
and instantly imagine…feel the sun’s warmth…
I think of biting into a peach (my favorite fruit),
the fuzz on its skin tickling my nose,
the sweet tang of the pulp delighting, exciting my palate…
I look at a barren rose bush,
yet behold Nature’s tiara ringed with ruby-red blossoms,
their honeyed scent filling the air.
On this February day,
the sky o’ercast and grey,
as I long for Spring,
I thank God for memory.