Miracles

From out the ether they silently come

and drop their wares o’er humankind

not like a rock to stun and knock out

but like the whisper of a gentle breeze.

They return with a smile waiting to be

the recipients of thank you notes

but sadly there is no post today

and no post for many more days.

Undeterred they wait for just that one

who knows the breeze was a miracle

maybe small, maybe large, but indisputable

and finally, finally, the postman knocks.

It’s not that we’re blind; we just don’t see

the breeze that changes what could have been

so how can we thank what cannot be seen

in a world dismissive of miracles?

But, oh, we can feel, we most certainly can

and yet, and yet, we don’t connect dots

or take the time to think it strange

that what could have been now is not.

So write that letter (figuratively)

and don’t let the Postman be unemployed!