This Is Not a Whim

On a day like today, which is only what I say it is, and not
What I don't say, if I do say so myself, people are glad
To be alive, if only because I say so, because
I've always wanted to say so, and now
That's just what I've said.
This may be only the start of another day of degrading ourselves
By acting the way we do, which is just how we act,
Maybe these trees are only trees, maybe the sidewalk
Is just this sidewalk, maybe each thing
Is as such, and only as such
Is it anything, because I could say
This is anything, and that's only
What it becomes, but if I say people are glad
This could never be otherwise; when you say
This is otherwise, that is only something you've done.
Only a fool could see these faces and deny them
Their happiness, being lit up the way the sky is
By my making the comparison, by becoming the sort of sky
I'd compare such smiling faces to, without a cloud there
Where its face is, because I say it's a face.
Only a fool could see the grocer and say that he's only
A word I choose, standing there as he does
If only because he stands there, in the shoes that fit
The feet they fit, wearing just that apron that shows
This is not a whim, I refuse to say so,
And if you choose to say so, then that's up to you.
On a day like today, people smile when I tell them.
On a day like today, it makes no difference what I say.
The child I'm about to mention, skipping toward you on the sidewalk,
In a firm and lilting voice, like a promise you can depend on,
Could always be something else, and I would be glad
To say so, but today I refuse
To say so, and I stand by what I say.
On a day like today is, that which is can't be just anything.
It can be what I say it is, but only because it is.