Sunday, October 19, 2014

For My Mother;

To me, every hour of the light and dark is a
Every inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is
         spread with the same,
Every cubic foot of the interior swarms with the
Every spear of grass—the frames, limbs, organs,
         of men and women, and all that concerns
All these to me are unspeakably perfect miracles.
To me the sea is a continual miracle,
The fishes that swim—the rocks—the motion
         of the waves—the ships, with men in them
         —what stranger miracles are there?

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