30: The Small Things

There is hope
in the small things -

I look for the edge of day,
skimming the butter-colored
dawn, rosy-cheeked
and vibrant;

There is a plant on my dresser,
subtly supple
as it clings to the water
that I too often forget to give;

In my heart I carry
the love of another
and that tethers me as I swing
from the pages of my life;

A child is giggling
at a leaf sailing by
and I remember that
joy is sometimes more of a choice
than anything;

I can never seem to keep
the encroaching mob of mess
in my room at bay,
but I have a room and a bed
and the debris is a reminder
that I have been too busy living;

I think of redwoods,
who face rolling stone
and roiled seas,
but who stand tall
because of those around them;

If I am restlessly pondering
the ceiling,
who entices the sleep away from me,
I see the brightness of headlights
that remind me that I am not alone.

And I remember,
through each of these
beautiful mundanities,
that there is something more.