In the town of Mill Valley in Northern California there lives an Irish poet. His name is Raymond. Sister Dolores McGuire met him one day as she walked across the plaza there, where he converses with the people as they sit, stand, or simply pass by.

Raymond told her of a one-word poem he had written, inspired by watching his grandson experience things for the first time. “It may be the best poem I’ve ever written,” he said.

Raymond reads his poems in the Book Depot, a bookstore cum café that looks out onto the plaza. The first time he ever read his one-word poem in public he began by stepping out from behind the podium, walking a few feet to the front row of chairs, bending down and cupping his hands around the face of a woman in the audience. He looked directly at her face and then into her eyes and said, “Wow!” drawing out the “O” sound. He moved to the man next to her, cupped the gentleman’s face in his hands and recited his poem. “Wow!” he said to the man.

As Raymond moved from person to person offering his poem, proclaiming to each the wonder of their being, he noticed that the people who had been the personal recipients of his poem began to imitate his action. Quick learners, each one turned, stared into the face of their neighbor and said “Wow!” drawing out the “O” sound.

Now, from time to time, all these years later, while sitting in the plaza or sipping coffee in the cafe or buying a book at the counter, someone can be heard telling the story about Raymond the Irish poet and his one word poem. Each time, and every time, the story brings a smile. Each time, and every time, the person hearing the story for the first time memorizes the poem. And without fail, everyone who hears the story goes away a storyteller. And all I can think is “What a delightful epidemic.”

(I heard about Raymond and his one word poem from Dolores McGuire, CHF)