I find myself more
And more often
Marvelling at the tiny things-
A singular whispy cloud
The feet of a bird
The way the wind echoes
While making its way
Through the row of pines
Across the street-
Even now, the gentle tap
Of raindrops on the roof-
Sometimes I feel silly
Talking about such things
Especially during times of heartache and confusion-
But I cannot ignore them-
I think maybe it’s these tiny things
That are holding me up
Pulling me through
Reminding me to see the hope
In my granddaughter’s eyes
Happy Easter! βοΈποΈπ
βThe people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.β
ββIsaiahβ¬ β9β¬:β2β¬ β

Wonderful β₯οΈ
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Thank you! βΊοΈ
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Yes! The silkiness of a cat’s fur, a child’s laughter….the small things are like tiny miracles!
Happy Easter to you.
Dianne Moritz
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Thank you, Dianne!
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Kelleyβ¦I love this even more today. Happy Easter. πππ»
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Thank you, Carrie. π
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Amen, Kelley! It IS the little things, my friend. What a beautifully-expressed poem and verse of truth. Happy Resurrection Day to you and your precious family. πβ¨π
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Thank you, Karla. Happy Easter! ποΈπ
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You’re welcome, sweet friend. ππ£ thank you!
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Lovelyβ¦π»
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Thank you. βΊοΈ
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I agree dear poet. My five grandchildren made me know. I did good. A wonderful and beautiful poem.
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Grandchildren bring a whole new perspective. Thank you!
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