sometimes life gifts us a hand
of painstakingly plain-jane cards
to remind us that
life is
beautiful.
that magic is real
even when we are not
conscientiously creating it.
sometimes just the task of
a chest rising
and
falling
can constitute a miracle.
this morning, as the sky
clouded over and the rain
pressed itself to my window panes,
i reminded myself that
it is not the hand i have been dealt
that decides my winnings;
it is the way i place
my cards
on the table.
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