IF we can still wake up and gaze in childlike awe
at clear blue skies, then run barefoot on sandy beach,
unmindful of the cold of early morning spring,
and soak our toes at water’s edge, shivering.

IF we can listen to the crashing of the surf,
the ceaseless call of hungry gulls as they fly low
and not conjure emotions dark and boding ill.
as we look up at sunlit clouds beyond the hill.

IF we can stop to smell the roses freshly cut,
then gorge in wonder at the riot of fall’s colors,
as we walk through the woods, with spirits light and free,
to catch the leaves as they drop softly off a tree.

THEN WE shall fear no longer unseen terrors, wearing
evil masks behind the faces they display,
and we can watch our kids blow white fluff from the flowers
to wish on, to dream on, to build their own life’s castle towers.