Little Miracles

Our neighbor (and now landlord) Jan, gave us these peonies from her garden on Mother's Day.

I commented on how pretty they were and she said, "want a bouquet?" and cut some for me. They smell so good.

I love the fragrance of the air in May. It's one of my favorite things. I was standing out in the mist this morning, listening to the birds, watching them play when a nice stream of honeysuckle scent wafted past me. I love those moments.

Ozark Gypsy had this little poem on her blog and I read it this morning for the first time. It seems just right to share at this moment.

Have a great day.

She calls the poem "Little Miracles."

The man whispered, "God, speak to me" and a meadowlark sang.

But, the man did not hear.

So the man yelled, "God, speak to me" and the thunder rolled across the sky.

But, the man did not listen.

The man looked around and said, "God let me see you." and a star shined brightly.

But the man did not notice.

And, the man shouted, "God show me a miracle." And, a life was born.

But, the man did not know.

So, the man cried out in despair, "Touch me God, and let me know you are here." Whereupon, God reached down and touched the man. But, the man brushed the butterfly from his shoulder and walked away disappointed.