Today I read Wislawa Szymborska’s poem “Miracle Fair”.

The poem begins with:

The commonplace miracle: 

that so many common miracles take place. 

And she begins a list, a way for each of us to view, expand, and embrace what comes to us as we meander through night and day.

A miracle that’s lost on us: 

the hand actually has fewer than six fingers 

but still it’s got more than four. 

A miracle, just take a look around: 

the inescapable earth. 

An extra miracle, extra and ordinary: 

the unthinkable 

can be thought. 

~ Wislawa Szymborska ~

I balance that with the Israel attack on a Gaza hospital killing 20, including journalists and medics.  One needs fingers and toes to count the number of dead.  One needs a see-saw to balance joy and sorrow, gratitude and grief, as we center in the heart that holds it all.  

My son sends me photos of his friend, a red-shouldered hawk, he sees on his morning walks.