reading

Miracles In The Minutia

Tiny, little specks of
white flecks…
flowers poking
through the crevice
of the public transportation train station.

I was filled with judgment
until that moment…
the things that were not going right,
the person who had not set me up
for success…
the list of my complaints long.
Until that moment.

The flowers were not complaining
that they had to grow
in a crack,
in a crevice
on the edge of concrete
at a station
instead of in a beautiful field
with room to breathe and grow.

They were just being flowers.
Being beautiful
whether anyone cared
or noticed
at all.

I was one big complaint…
until that moment…
when i stooped down
and touched their magnificence
and was humbled to my core.

julia butterfly hill