When did I stop listening to the rain,

lying in bed and watching the deepest

green leaves swaying as the wind

mumbles a sweet murmuring lullaby?

And when did I stop watching the stars

on chilly winter nights, looking for the familiar

constellations, breathing in crisp air and out the

vapor of my own amazements?

Was it when I moved to the city and

lost the light among the pollution

of street lamps, and lit office buildings, and

the neon brightness of capitalism, and work deadlines?

Or was it something else that

drew my eyes to the ground, feet trudging

out a dull beat toward the next place I must be?

I wonder about wonder, and if I can ever get it back?