Morning Miracles

Tea.
A bit of biscuit
with marmalade.
Morning sun and silence.

You breathe in. Out.
Deeply. Slowly. Purposefully,
feeling the air move in your core.
A thing no longer taken for granted.
Air. Light. A place to be.

The table settings are simple.
No more, or less than you need.
Your eyes are fixed beyond your sight,
marveling at the miracle of breath,
a thing almost lost, and regained,
the gratitude in you a magical thing
Possessed by it, you thrive.

About this poem

I don’t think any of us will take breathing for granted again. That’s a good thing.

I am one of those believers that gratitude rewires our life for good.

I have practiced meditation for about 15 years or so now.

From those things, this poem

Tom