You Don’t Believe in Miracles?
by Wilda Morris
          Beginning with a line by Tania Runyan

Isn’t this wonder enough
that the deep red rosebuds
you gave me in a silver vase
the night you proposed
soon spread their red petals
and opened themselves to the light?

Isn’t it wonder enough that the squash seeds I threw
into the garden one fall
when the disposal was broken
sprouted the year we were broke,
producing an unexpected harvest?

Isn’t it wonder enough
that our daughter who survived
tumbles from trees, bicycle accidents
and a faint-induced fall
off the platform as she sang
grew into a fine, strong woman?

Isn’t it wonder enough
that our first granddaughter
who couldn’t sit, stand, or walk
and never learned to talk
brightened whole rooms with giggles
when we pulled Velcroâ„¢ strips apart?

Isn’t it wonder enough
that we hike a woodland path
with grandchildren, spotting deer,
naming wildflowers, that we kneel
together watching leafcutter ants carry
more than their weight in leaves?

Isn’t this wonder enough
that a friend introduced us
on the steps of a D.C. church, both
headed for the University of Illinois,
and fifty years later we stand
on those same steps, hand in hand?


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