Every day I get to sit here and write, is a miracle.

Every day I get to sit on my daughter’s bed and stroke her head, is a miracle.

I live in miracles - in the unsayable, in the infinite.

My warm feet touch the cool, wet grass of this neighbourhood. My neighbour’s; the birds, are up ahead of me - welcoming the day. I am but one, small part of this enormous symphony.

Even as my children bustle to make their own lunches - as Rufus asks me to wipe his lunch box - he knows how to do what must be done - Grace is on the bacon, Archer is being the quiet and bossy big brother in his own way.

My heart bursts with love for these little creatures - their wild aliveness - their cuteness, their ever flowing life, joy, and presence. Their being utterly themselves. And I want you to feel this, love - my love for them - and for you.

Ah, new day, Autumn breeze - magic apple tree I caress as I remember our seeding of life under her boughs.