Matches and Miracles:

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   I don't smoke, but I'd light a match in hopes it'd float.  Up to the heavens, higher still.  Until it was the last surviving star in the night sky.  I don't believe in destiny, but I'd like to think mine's got potential.  I don't have much, but words and thoughts the flit around in my empty girl-brain.  Like birds in cages, anxiously waiting to fly.  

   I'm one to think that we have to find what makes us happy.  In Life, in Death, or anything in between. The miracles are in the mundane.  We pass them up in hopes for something greater, but we're missing the ones that will truly take our breath away.  A baby's laugh, the smell of the ocean.  Late-night drives with Kevin Devine singing lullabies.  The idea that one song can break me apart and expose my red red heart. Only to put my pieces back together.  Humpty Dumpty, but more eccentric and broken.

   And I can feel summer coming.  It's in the way the breeze carries familiar smells.  It's in the way the sunlight kisses my curtains in the morning.  It's in the tulips and irises.  Miracles that appear and make the faded winter colors fall away.  I can't wait until the summer comes.