glistening grass with morning
dew, like a spider web
pulsating, wind whipping, sticky
threads catch life, then
death, how nature works
constant miracles, colors, petals
insects submerged in nectar
pollen dust travels, floating
on bees feet, sun
greets this day with
warmth for all, moon
at night, bright dreams
silent stars, flickering light
when i think of all the times
i’ve caught the soap in the
shower, i wonder if i could
trade this for immortality or
winning the lottery or another
miracle beyond slick clumsy
fingers losing a fragrant
rectangle, only to somehow
cradle it again, like a touchdown
this, while contemplating whether
it is just me who performs sudsy
magic, there must be others who
exhaust all their luck behind
foggy plexiglass, others who silently
celebrate the meaningless and divine
Daniel W. Polk 