Beautiful is the coordinated chaos of starlings in flight.
Beautiful is sunset on ruffled clouds.

Beautiful is a cherub face in hair ribbons
and frilly Easter dress.

Beautiful is that second kiss,
knowing for sure it is desired.

Beautiful is the female form, from the Venus
of Willendorf to the Venus De Milo,
the frozen motion ballet movement
of the football player in midair.

Beautiful is the violin crying, the “Sleeping Beauty Waltz,”
the “Artist’s Life,” the tenor aria, the soprano high C,
“Songs My Mother Taught Me.”
Beautiful is the taste of spring on the air,
chocolate on strawberries and in the mixing bowl,
blueberries in milk.

Beautiful is Monet’s Water Lily Pond,
La Pietà, the Girl with A Pearl Earring.

Beautiful is the fragrance of roses and tomatoes,
Mom’s pocketbook, of fresh baked bread,
the watching the rising of a midsummer moon.

Beautiful is the Grand Canyon, wherever you look.

Beautiful is feeling the warmth
of another’s body touching yours.

Beautiful is that surprise sight of your lover
waiting on the train platform, excited to see you.           
Beautiful is your first time,
and then every time,
you look at the stars.


© by Tony Fusco.
Used with the author’s permission.