Unreported Miracles

Not all birds find it easy to fly.
As they struggle inelegantly
to stay afloat,
the wind is not playing fair—not for them.
Necks straining
they flap and flap and somehow
they keep going.
Spare a thought for those of us
who find life difficult,
the ungainly ones,
the ones who keep striving to just be,
like birds with bodies too big
for their wings.
On a perfect, clear, silver day,
they walk gingerly out their door,
and reach for the sky.
Holding tight onto their umbrellas,
they take flight
towards an endles blue.
That’s why the weather
has been a little unsettling recently,
a little unsettled.
Small, unreported miracles
are shifting the pattern
into new shapes
to the left of the light,
to the right of darkness.