“There are two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” – Albert Einstein

“Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems.”
-Walt Whitman

WIND CHIME

Plastic porch throne,
enjoying moonlight and chamomile tea.
Quiet night moments earned in the chaos of the day.
A brief pause for breathtaking, chilled and fresh.
Blowing off the stink of hassles and worries,
even if I pick them right back up to go inside.

Imagining what each house holds.
Winding down, sleeping, loving.
Wishing.

The frogs are singing loudly.
Cars are swooshing faintly.
But I’m struck by my old wind chime.

A gift from my dad when we were newly weds.
Not for any special reason, a just because gift.
It hangs from a hook, rusted and used.
A little tattered from moves and weather.
Making the soft and familiar sounds that we have become ignorant of.

I catch myself giving it credit for all of the torrents it has sustained.
The winds, the rain, the snow.
Yet here it remains.
Loyal and strong.
A guardian of each home my husband and I have ever shared.
The family and friends that have passed underneath it.
Neighbors that have been welcomed and enjoyed its song.
The many nights it was a steady companion on my porch throne sessions.

Instantly important.
Suddenly a treasure.
A tiny miracle, I almost missed it.