The faintest sound—
the fingertip of a leaf touching
the windowpane, or a tiny
spring trickling over pebbles,
or droplets of light rain
on the forehead of my childhood . . .
The lightest caress—
bare feet in summer on a soft dirt path,
a hand that attempts for the first time
or the clean darkness lying light
as a bedsheet over one’s sleepless self. . .
A nameless fervor within me
so often doesn’t seem to be
mine yet is me.
Nearly everything near or far
that reaches toward me soothes
me and wounds me. You—
your presence, even though it’s
not my life, is my life.
The way two unnoticed leaves can be
proof of the world’s breath.
–Luis Cernuda (1931)
from RenditionsFind more by Reginald Gibbons at the library
Copyright © 2021 Reginald Gibbons
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, LLC on behalf of Four Way Books.