Listen, ears: when the sun came up
you didn't tell me. When the eloquent
lecturer came you were worse than nothing.
But the eyes - when they turn, whatever
is there appears. They know a corner,
and they know the sun, that glorious
prayer it says. Under the pouring light
comes a sound: being. Deaf to all else
I lean where anything calls, to belong.
Wherever the world is, I wait there,
faithfully - sound, sight, thought -
giving it all the help I can. Poem by William Stafford was first published in the Monitor in 1977.