From Dancing Moons, 1995, by Nancy Wood
Things that remember themselves
are not forgotten, but rise on wings
of experience and paint our minds
with the visions of our ancestors.
Things that remember themselves are pictures
without form and words without a tongue.
They give meaning to what we thought
we had forgotten in our youth.
Things that remember themselves give light
to the uncertain paths we used to take,
bringing beauty to the house
of our ripening old age.