Starting Over

Ice.

Blanket.

Snowbound.

Frozen ground.

Stuck in one place.

Facing the same white.

Not certain that the sun is.

Wanting the clouds to part.

Start over.

What do you do when you have no

Idea: can you draw some icon in the snow?

Where can you imagine going this morning?

Ah the lime green surge of water, the crush of tides

over and over the tan sand the white shells like ocean teeth

left behind the foam frothing over and over the never-ending waves

A dark fin no, now two now three wow arc up through the emerald sea

The beach is full of gulls but it is the

chocolate

pelicans

soaring

gliding

on

air

currents

swooping

see them

splash

and

crash

into the

the

water’s

sunny

surface.

Observing Miracles

On a morning when I wake up                                                           

wanting some kind of miracle

to happen and nothing

in particular 

happens

that's when I try just

to watch that desire

and breathe it away. 

And then this

thought occurs to me:

Maybe you are asking

for the wrong sort.

Maybe you don’t need the

flashy miracles where some

glowing angel appears or

you suddenly can fly or

you can speak to the dead

or predict the future

with or without tea leaves.

No.

Maybe the point is

that miracles

are right here in these

fingers creating meaning

out of little black squiggles

tapped onto a white screen.

Or in a sunflower bigger

than a dinner plate.

Or in a smiling baby

with toes like tiny pink pearls.

Feel the gentle air

expanding your lungs.

Smell the pine trees on a mountain –

just because I write the words.

All of it, every single thing

is miraculous

if you take the time to notice.