Poem by Dana Littlepage Smith

‘Her gentle look turned the spider, crawling up the side of the tub into a miracle, in a tuneful minor key.' | Photo: by engin akyurt on Unsplash

Jesus did not appear to me today
in a burnt a piece of toast.

Nor in the face of the cornbread,
nor in the sad black eye of the sunflower.

Maybe he was lingering in the musical shadows
of children singing in my morning dreams.

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