Uncommon Beauty

The old worn down wood and peeling paint

of a door that's been open and closed

and opened again

over years

a silent witness to countless "hello"s, "good-bye"s,

"I've had enough"s, and "can I come back"s.

The daisy that pushed up through the sidewalk cracks.

The rain that trails tears down a pane of glass

and sparkles like glitter

when the light hits it just right,

The swirl of fog across earth warmed roads

that looks like magic in the crisp air of winter mornings

The gray in my hair,

like lighting shooting across a dark sky,

each a talisman of one of life's lemons

handed to me without sugar, a spoon, or a pitcher,

but somehow - lemonade was made

and Your old work boots

still there by the back door

muddy but untouched

a tombstone that echoes of "have a good day" kisses

and "what's for dinner hugs"

replaced by grief that means love was here...

... once...

... and love remains still

amid all this beauty, so often unseen

in overlooked uncommon things