Miracles Can Be Quiet

Miracles can be quiet
as a soft falling of rain,
as bubbles of brewing coffee
popping against the glass
and a steam of what happens
in front of us, when
we least expect it,
but it tastes so good.

Miracles can come like
whispers we need to
bend the ear
to hear.

They can come in through
the back door
and be the last to
board the flight.

Miracles can be like treacle
over pancakes and melted butter,
reminding you of the best days
of childhood.

Miracles can be like a gesture
you can only just make out,
so subtle is it, a slight
wave of the hand,
always in the eyes, a promise.

Miracles can be under the feet
like grass between toes
and they can smell like
morning, just before it arrives.

Miracles can be so silent
that it can take a moment
to realise, they’re already
here, and you didn’t even
know it, until
now.