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Calling Out for a Miracle: poem by David James

Photo: snow-covered boulders in bright sunlight by the forest edge, animal pawprints (rabbit maybe?) and human bootprints in the snow, and sunlight filtering through the trees, image by Алексей, on Pixabay.

snow and sun, image by Алексей, on Pixabay

Calling Out for a Miracle



Though it’s March and 23 degrees,

snow covering most of the ground,

the sun’s out, thank God, and clouds float


across a blue sky. I can live with any temperature

as long as the sun is there, sending down


its crisp light on the firepit, across the rowboat,

overturned, piled high with snow,


on my smiling face as I lift my gaze

to the heavens. Two deer, barely visible,


walk through a row of trees in back. A fat crow

sits on the highest branch of a maple, unfazed


by the world below. But there’s so much to see,

so much to know, so much to do, sometimes,


I get anxious that I’ve missed my life, or I’m missing out

on the person I was born to be


by not trying to find

the miracles at my feet, the gems in my eyes.


But that feeling passes when I trudge through

the snow drifts, head across the field and yell my name

just to hear it echo back off the sky.


Born and raised on the third coast, Michigan, David James has published seven books and has had more than thirty of his one-act plays produced.

March 2024 issue

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