it isn’t fortune, and it isn’t fame
it’s everyday miracles
that sustain me
a robin singing outside my window
at the end of an endless winter
on the first warm day of spring
twenty dollar bill in the pocket
of a jacket I haven’t worn
for months
one last beer in the fridge
hidden behind
the hot sauce and pickles
a dog’s wet, sloppy tongue
licking my face
in the morning
the first explosion of tulips
a golden riot of daffodils
the ecstatic rhythm
of flapping wings
instead of a dreadful thud
when children fly from the nest
one more cookie in the jar
the last piece of chocolate
a parking space in front of the building
the thrum of a motor boat out on the lake
water slapping at her hull
the murmuring buzz of honey bees
ambrosia of a lilac bush in full bloom
candle in the window, the smell of wood smoke
logs blazing in the fireplace on a cold night
the blues and wild gypsy guitars
freshly ground coffee beans in the morning
a car that starts when it’s 20 below
sheep grazing in a field
horses at the fenceline
the news that my test is negative
the smell of damp earth after a spring rain
the gentle breathing of my bed partner
in the middle of the night
a sign that says
Gas Next Exit
when the tank is empty
the sound of thunder from a far shore
the breeze that rises up before a storm
a 3 point basket at the buzzer
home run in the bottom of the ninth
hitting 21 against the dealer at the Blackjack table
a check from the IRS
the cop
who let me go
with just a warning
an unexpected kindness
a feather in my path
Tibetan prayer flags in the mailbox
all messages from Angels
coming through
the static and the noise
In Between Hangovers 