After Walt Whitman's,
"Miracles"
Why, who makes much of miracles?
As for myself, I know nothing but miracles.
Whether I stroll the woodland trail washed
with mountain laurel,
Or lift my eyes to watch
the bald eagle cutting through azure skies,
Or stand under the redbud tree
wearing lilac lace,
Or pet the soft coat of a puppy,
Or look at newborn calves
frolicking in verdant pastures,
Or splash barefooted through
the icy waters of Hyatt-Mill Creek,
Or play with my great-niece
riding her tricycle,
Or the Full Pink Moon
shining through my bedroom window,
Or new life bursting forth
from the earth at spring;
These with the rest, one and all,
are to me miracles.
--Brenda Kay Ledford
7 comments:
I agree with your beautiful poem. All of those are miracles! Blessings to you this weekend.
Beautiful poem Brenda and you certainly expressed the beauty we see . I love Walt Whitman. He's one of my favorite Poets. I hope you're enjoying spring.
Beautiful, Brenda! I think of Psalm 19:1-4. The heavens declare the glory of God.
Isn't He so good to show us so many wonderful miracles each and every day!
It is so true that there are miracles all around us.Too often we fail to notice them.
Oh Brenda, this is a beautiful poem! God has made our world full of miracles and we can see them every day and everywhere.
I hope you have good luck with your tomato plants. Yes, it has been a very unusual spring. We've had the same kind of temperatures here.
Love your poem, Brenda! Those are all miracles.
We are indeed surrounded by more miracles than we can count. Lovely poem, Brenda, and your flower photos are gorgeous!
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