Tiny Little Miracles

Photo by Jean-Philippe Delberghe on Unsplash

Sometimes,
when I’m waiting in
line at the grocery store,

a bag of coffee beneath
my left arm, my right
cradling the cumbersome
loaf of multi-grain bread
my daughter will detest
because
seeds,

I’ll look up from my phone —
away from the fretful stew
of Washington warmongers
and their white-collar conflicts —

to see the woman in front of me,
buying one Brawny
paper towel roll,
a value-sized box of
Honey Nut Cheerios
and an armful of
assorted Play-Doh cans.

A human being —
an impossible product
of improbable odds.
Living. Breathing. Being.

At arm’s length away
a miracle, embedded in
the infinity of the universe —

wearing paint-stained moccasins
on an errand to feed her own
tiny little miracles.