I have decided that I’m here in this world to be moved by love and [to] let myself be moved by beauty.
—Ada Limón, Poet Laureate of the United States

And so I move again
on foot toward no specific
destination, moving just
to move, eager to be
surprised by loveliness
rushing at me or simply
ambling along—

the woman pushing
a walker, who looks up
at me and beams a
beautiful smile—

the dog grinning,
tongue flopping,
pulling its person
who matches the grin
when mine joins theirs—

the tiniest buds
bursting into white
flame on trees branches
so bare only weeks ago,
still in place despite
the pelting rains—

the everyday ordinariness,
not so ordinary at all,
of cars passing on a
quiet Sunday, of birdsong,
acknowledging all this
beauty as blessing—

especially when I
extend a hand to receive
a lick of dogtongue,
delighted by this kiss
from a passing soul,
a stranger no more.