It is a gift....
when the dawn wakes me up,
the cold slowing as the earth spins
when winter fades into spring
and the birds sing their happy songs,
the blooms painting their backyard
when toddlers toddle into our room before the sun
and climb under the warm blankets with cold toes
when I hear my mother and sisters laugh
when bad news isn't as bad as it could get
when a toy becomes a keepsake:
I wear around my neck, an image
of a miracle. Folklore says that
bees shouldn't be able to fly.
I know the miracle lies within the fact that
they even exist.
When HE died for me and made my heart clean so that I could learn to know him.