To be Blind

They say it is a gift to watch the sport of life
play by play in perfect precision.
Let them have twenty of twenty
five of five.
They ever so laissez faire.

You call me handicap, disabled.
Yet I see more:
my ear, my nose, my hand, my tongue
tell me more than sight alone.
While others walk and judge by eye and say:
"Tis a lowly bakery."
I hear an orchestra of a crackling hearth.
The fragrance of fresh buttery cream and sweet dough.
I feel
the warmth of a creator's passion.
My mouth
moistens at the lures:
Pannetone, cannolis, French crust bread,
lobster claws, Babkas, cheesecakes...

They only watch through shallow pools
while I dive the Fathoms with delight.
They who say I am handicapped,
Blind Fools.