Ordinary Miracles – Erica Jong
Spring, rainbows, everyday miracles about which nothing new can be said.
The stars on a clear night of a New England winter; the soft air of the islands along the old Spanish Main; pirate gold shining in the palm; the odor of roses to the lover’s nose. . .
There is no more poetry to be written of these things.
The rainbow’s a sudden revelation– behold!
The cliché is true!
What can one say but that?
So too, with you, little heart, a little miracle, but you are no less miracle for being ordinary.
You must be logged in to post a comment.