Back when the earth was new
and heaven just a whisper,
back when the names of things
hadn't had time to stick;
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melted summer into autumn,
when all the poplars quivered
sweetly in rank and file . . .
the world called, and I answered.
Each glance ignited to a gaze.
I caught my breath and called that life,
swooned between spoonfuls of lemon sorbet.
I was pirouette and flourish,
I was filigree and flame.
How could I count my blessings
when I didn't know their names?
Back when everything was still to come,
luck leaked out everywhere.
I gave my promise to the world,
and the world followed me here.
"Testimonial" by Rita Dove, from On the Bus with Rosa Parks: Poems. © W. W. Norton & Company, 2000.
Photography credit: Unknown (originally color).
Simply beautiful.
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