Why, who makes much of a miracle?
As to me I know of nothing else but miracles
Whether I tread the moonlit path,
Or hear the first cry uttered by a new-born baby,
Or ponder over the journey from infancy to death,
Or see the thirsty earth being satiated by the cool showers of rain,
Or listen to the mellifluous tunes pouring forth from a flute,
Or being awakened byt he cockadoodling of a cock at dawn,
Or see the beautiful colours of the rainbow adorning the sky,
Or feel the power of the wind shaking up the droopy leaves,
Or marvel when two strangers fall in love,
Or wonder at God's presence when He answers my prayers.

Every muscle in me is a miracle!
Every dropp of blood in me is a miracle!
Every strand of hair of mine is a miracle!

A miracle is happening here and now,
If only you could see,
Every creation is a miracle,
Like this world, these words and I.

francisca simon

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/miracles-based-on-walt-whitman-s-miracles/