The Trace of First Sight

When perception of the sound of the sea
Becomes the sight of the sea, that’s when
you know. The easy associations of quality—
the sush and hiss, the repetition that repeats—
these mean so little until at last we see.
I was wondering about this when I bent
To pick up a rice grain from the kitchen floor
And heard your voice, so familiar that I
Rose, and turned in your direction to reply.
That I heard it was not as troubling
As my own disbelief that I heard it, and not
Knowing what to do with the fact that I did.