Awakening. A poem by Bobby Motherwell

Have you noticed that our pace
is slowing to a walk?
That we hear the song the birds sing,
and even the trees appear to talk,
A world in high definition,
our vision now restored,
Seemingly dependant on our current condition,
inhabiting a world we can now afford,
Inhale again the smell of mother earth,
Ah! were it ever thus,
Are we coming to our senses?
Or are our senses returning to us?