SONNET FOR A BLIND CHILD

The stars are cool of evening and the moon
A lighted word of wonder. Shining hours
Are night against her eyes and yet a noon
Her face tilts upward like a turning flower
Sustained by sunlight, delicate and brief.
Her hands explain the earth, the grass and snow.
Explore the petal’s texture, shape and leaf,
But colored gardens she will never know.
A voice has music we can only guess;
The birds are melody in flight, and shells
Are singing oceans in her wilderness
Where laughter is a peal of happy bells.
She is caresses by gentle-fingered rain
Who walks unfrighten through her dark domain.

Ulrich Troubetzkoy