Expecting Miracles...

We’ve come to expect you

A routine array

Of never-before-ness

We simply call Day

On your skin of mercy

We tattoo our shame

Daring to expect you

None-the-less, all-the-same

Prostrate parenthesis,

Of east-sky elation

Yet ever your sameness

Deserves celebration

…but we’ve come to expect you

And always, you’re there

Running your whispers

Through night’s thinning air

…and every morning

Since God’s ‘let there be’

You fill earth’s awning

With His majesty

We’ve come to expect you;

God-granted gold-gray

Of grace-gilded miracle

We simply call Day

© Janet Martin

Rife with breath-stealing lines there was one line in the poem below that made me stop and re-read it slowly...'the miracle of day'...

Late September by Amy Lowell

Tang of fruitage in the air; Red boughs bursting everywhere; Shimmering of seeded grass; Hooded gentians all a'mass. Warmth of earth, and cloudless wind Tearing off the husky rind, Blowing feathered seeds to fall By the sun-baked, sheltering wall. Beech trees in a golden haze; Hardy sumachs all ablaze, Glowing through the silver birches. How that pine tree shouts and lurches! From the sunny door-jamb high, Swings the shell of a butterfly. Scrape of insect violins Through the stubble shrilly dins. Every blade's a minaret Where a small muezzin's set, Loudly calling us to pray At the miracle of day. Then the purple-lidded night Westering comes, her footsteps light Guided by the radiant boon Of a sickle-shaped new moon. This poem is in the public domain.