IT’S THE LITTLE THINGS

 

We look for them to be grandiose,

But they come to us in little ways,

The birth of a child, the smell of a rose,

And in the joy of knowing that we are His.

We may not witness a blind man see,

Nor a cripple throwing down his crutch,

We know such as these bring jubilee,

But it's the joy of smile, the feel of a touch.

We watch red and orange leaves fall from trees,

It seems to show its impending death,

On naked limbs, we look with displease,

In spring gaze upon beauty with bated breath.

Flowers softly open their petals,

Mother birds attending to their nests,

And at night the sun gently settles,

And newborns cuddle secure to mom's breasts.

These, by far, are life's true miracles,

Little things that stand before my eyes,

Not the things we find in oracles,

But ones unnoticed, wrapped in disguise.