Days can seem unmiraculous,
even when someone returns,
from three days in bed
and one foot in another world,
to this one, and resumes his former place
as if nothing has happened
(and it hasn’t)
Days can seem staid
though much has been accomplished,
papers sorted and filed,
order restored
as rain lays down its seeps and puddles
throughout the darkish day
and things settle underground,
and the water table rises capably
It may be unmiraculous
that life goes through its quiet transformations,
yet miracle ever awaits
our moments of noticing.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 7, 2015
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