The blind must wonder what is beauty.

How can they see what we take for granted,

the glittering dewdrops on the crimson rose’s petals

God’s artistry when he paints a rosy sunrise with clouds as his brush

the smiles of a loved one radiating sunshine

the frosted landscape of winter white

the dark night sky dotted with stellar shining stars

the verdant fields of pastel wildflowers

the warm colors of fall lacing the tree leaves?

But maybe they have a different sense of beauty.

For only they appreciate what we neglect,

laughter like bell chimes,

choked-up sobs when a son returns home,

the scent of vanilla perfume on a loved one’s skin,

the bitter cold that burns like fire,

the summer heat that angers you with salty sweat,

and the tight warmth of a hug?

Beauty comes in many forms

and it is not those who are able

who decide what is beautiful.