Today I thrill in miraculous things,
like how five hundred pounds of gala apples
come off of one tree that began as one seed.
Like the star that shines inside the fruit,
like the universe expanding,
and that minds might, too.
Like bread rising thanks to the living yeast.
How an embryo forms in the shadow of the womb
and all that is light comes from darkness.
Breath. Strawberry. Wing. The unlikeliness
of a jellyfish. How one and one
can make fine rhythm.
How sometimes you say what I need to hear.
I wear wings of praise. Here come
bright things. I am right here.