Don’t sleep through the beauty of the world,

be awake when sparrows wing their tapestry across the sky,

The shadow of the stalwart tree moving across the lawn,

see the glittering march of the tide.

Be awake for the darting hummingbirds

among the lilies at the edge of the bluff,

and the white ruffled burst of waves

as they fling onto the lighthouse rocks.

Only sleep in the quiet hours of the night,

when the only thing moving is the sweeping hand

of the grandfather clock in the front hall.

And maybe not even then.