was it
the first time
I heard my name?
or the joy
of a toy?
the silent sway
of gravity
or the way the
unblinking sky
is ever poised
to swallow me whole?
the mystique
of lilacs
or the myth
of snowflakes?
the watery
countenance of
the new moon
or the acute
propinquity
of summer?
in the triumphant
notes of Coltrane
or a furtive glance
across a crowded room?
the triumphant
spark of inspiration
or the concomitant
afterglow of expression
how did I
come to understand
joy?
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