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True Miracles

If there is such a thing as the divine,
then I can see it every day –
in the grass, the rocks, the sun
and sky, each leaf on every tree;
in the bird’s flight and a cloud’s shadow
as it passes overhead; in a storm,
in a green pool, sparkling with life –
for beauty I need look no further
than outside my own back door.
These and more are true miracles,
not found in lofty heights,
surrounding me, here and now,
longing to embrace me in return.

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Almost every morning I sit out on my back deck with a cup of coffee. Wrapped in my fluffy robe, fleece slippers, and a warm blanket, I listen as the birds arrive at my feeders. I imagine they must be as cozy as me with all their feathers, as even below-zero temperatures don’t seem to phase them.

Around 7 a.m., on clear days the sun finally peeks over the trees and I feel my whole face change from the warmth. That’s when more wild neighbors arrive, including the squirrels who proceed to dig around for seed I throw into the snow underneath the feeders. Everyone gets a share at this table.

Despite the deep cold and an occasional bout of winter blues, I still feel life inside me, warmth, sleepy but awake, most especially when I hear the sounds of the birds chirping as the sun rises. Such small, simple connections every day. Spring will come again, and like them, I know it. But it’s all beautiful, and so worthy.