Miracles in the little things,
Like the lush scent after the rains
Fall upon a forest’s bushes,
Each leaf that the water pushes
To the earth. And so they sag
As each droplet comes to drag
From the base, along the midrib
To balance at the tip.
Not yet knowing whether to hold or drop,
Though gravity, the leaf cannot stop.
Thus dampening not just plant, but ground
Which is where seeds can be found.
The stems will straighten when clouds clear,
Drying them, like a single tear
Upon the cheek of joy unbound.
So they say life is but a circle
And their shade is but a hurdle
For a sapling sprouts to size
As the leaflets photosynthesize.
In turn, they grow just as tall,
As the thicket from which the drops did fall.
Together they stand in pride
Weathering each storm in stride.
For underneath, their roots are strong,
To each stem, twenty more belong.
Far darker is the overcast,
But darkened days cannot last.
For with each day of rain,
Comes the sun to break again.
That this process is so small,
I still think it to be a miracle.
Written by:
Alexandre McGovern
Beginning to End Table Books 