Thursday, March 15, 2018


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!

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