Sonnet

The way the world is not

astonished at you

it doesn’t blink a leaf

when we step from the house

leads me to think

that beauty is natural, unremarkable

and not to be spoken of

except in the course of things

the course of singing and worksharing

the course of squeezes and neighbors

the course of you, tying back your raving hair to go out

and the course, of course, of me

astonished at you

the way the world is not.