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The Quiet Work of Wonder
I tend a garden of quiet miracles—
flowers folding into themselves like secrets,
petals trembling with the weight of sunlight.
Along the shore, I walk barefoot,
letting waves erase footprints,
while my camera gathers moments
too soft to hold, too sharp to forget.
In my hands, a book opens like a window—
words spilling like wild bees,
each poem a quiet prayer
to the life blooming just beyond sight.
I write in the margins of mornings,
scribbling love letters to the ordinary,
crafting verses that sing beneath breath,
a tapestry woven from small wonders.
And around me, the ones I cherish—
their laughter like shells scattered on sand,
their stories the roots that keep me grounded,
their presence the sun that helps me grow.
This is my sacred work:
to hold, to notice, to nurture,
to be the keeper of moments
where beauty and love quietly collide.
- Vendredi
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