every present moment is a miracle

Why ! who makes much of miracle ?

As to me, I know of nothing

else but miracles,

Whether I walk the streets of

Manhattan,

Or dart my sight over the roofs

of houses toward the sky,

Or wade with the naked feet

along the beach, just in the edge of

the

water,

Or stand under the tress in the,

woods,

Or talk by day with any one I

love -- or sleep in the bed at

night with

any one I love,

Or sit at table at dinner with

my mother

 

To me, every hour of the light

and dark is a miracle,

Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,

 

To me the sea is continual

miracle;

The fishes that swim -- the

rocks -- the motion of the

waves -- the ships,

with men in them,

What stranger miracles are

there ?

 

-- Walt Whitman

 

 

Done