I think of the marvelous shiny smoothness 
of my car after bathing and buffing 
to polished splendor, 
The smell of fresh-turned earth 
when I've spent a day in the garden, 
The "song" of the frogs on the evening 
before a cold front invades 
their watery community, 
The poised neatness of the stack of papers
for the project - completed at last, 
The melting taste of meatloaf 
served in the kitchen by someone in love, 
The sensuous movement of a pet, 
The radiant face of the person receiving the bouquet the giver smelled on the sly.
Ol' Noah (the lexicographer, 
not the one with the sailing zoo) 
was right when he wrote that sensuous
is a word meaning "pertaining to the senses."

I find favorites in the glorious multiplicity of gifts and joys that please the senses:
A bunch of late summer wild flowers or a gift 
from the garden - or road-side stand - 
A walk in the woods, or the country, 
or on the seashore, 
or in the mountains or even in the neighborhood 
Provides a wealth of surprises and delights: 
The neighbor's new delphinium, 
The tiny red bits on a woodland moss 
in full "bloom," 
A mockingbird singing 
its joi de vivre to the sky, 
A curious cow protecting her stringy calf, 
The endless roar of the ocean, 
The feel of the wind in my hair, 
The cool retreat into shelter, 
The ecstasy of an eternity of time 
on a cliff overlooking darkening beauty - 
What better gifts than these?

Children understand simple sensuousness. 
They revel in the mystery of a shampoo's lather 
on their dirty scalp; 
They will spend hours watching a caterpillar 
go about its business in the neighbor's tree; 
They listen for the changing sound 
of a passing train; 
They savor the delight of ice cream 
on a summer day; 
They are alert to the smell of the ozone 
before a thunderstorm. 

When I come through the sensuous door, 
I become like a little child 
and share in their delights. 
I enjoy being with people who enjoy weather: 
Not just "good weather" but each 
of the numerous kinds of weather: misty rain, violent storms, gusty winds, quiet twilight, clear brightness, and on and on.

I like to lie in the grass 
and watch the trees blow,
Wash someone else's hair - 
then dive into the lake for a rinse.
Get thoroughly wet outdoors,
Pick up a pretty stone in a stream.
Ahh. Delight!
Anyone who ignores the sensuous side of my nature does so at his own peril.

I began as a child picking up dropped blossoms in the spring and radiant leaves in the autumn. 
I have two maple leaves mottled with scarlet and gold pegged to my desk wall right now. 
I remember the violently beautiful day I found them last October.
February is not long enough for all the Valentines I have to give and receive, 
but I find heart-shaped "Valentines" everywhere I go, month after month: 
A brilliant crimson leaf in the fall; 
A smooth, white, rounded stone 
from the stream I visit on holidays; 
A crooked tree limb 
appearing to meet the shore of a lake - 
just beside the cut of a tiny stream. 
The world is full of Valentines, 
and I enjoy them all!