It is when beauty takes me by storm or by calm,
by the hand or by the throat--
It is when beauty sweeps over like summer lightning,
or settles in like a bird come home--
It is when beauty sneaks up like a birthday surprise,
or hides in my heart like a secret answer to a secret question--
It is when beauty sings to me like a symphony,
or strings words together in constellations of love poems--
This is when I, astonished, conspicuous, have the least to say.
