Glean a baby’s smile
steal a cat’s cuteness
gather the raindrops and make a necklace;
touch the whispers of the wind
feel the murmurs of the stream
drink a bowlful of moonlight
breathe in the sunlight and glow from within;
travel on the sound of the chugging train
sleep on the froth of a rising tidewalk a mile in my mother’s shoes.
If I can do these before I die,
why, death would then hardly count.