There are days when,
although I try to open myself
to wonder, wonder just
won’t be found. Or perhaps,
it is more accurate to say
on those days I am simply
blind to what the world
has to offer
until I look down, and there,
beside the sidewalk,
are blades of grass completely
enrobed in ice, shimmering
in the glow of the setting sun,
and as they sway and move
into each other, if I listen,
really listen,
even they are singing
faint little bell-notes of joy.
--Paula Gordon Lepp
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