I polish shovels for a living;
It makes me glad to see them shine,
And, though the metal’s unforgiving,
The light pervades this heart of mine.

I find myself in calm seclusion,
As well as in a free-for-all,
And, in the midst of wild confusion,
I stop to watch a feather fall.

There’s beauty in the very presence
Of both the great and tiny things;
They spread a table cloth of pleasance
On all the days awareness brings.

So, brushing off my disused voice,
I breathe in deeply and rejoice.

Photo by Zac Durant on Unsplash

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