Up to our neck in miracles

Wherever we find ourselves, there are always moments of awe and wonder if we have eyes to see.


Once, in the cool blue middle of a lake,
up to my neck in that most precious element of all,

I found a pale-gray, curled-upwards pigeon feather
floating on the tension of the water

at the very instant when a dragonfly,
like a blue-green iridescent bobby pin,

hovered over it, then lit, and rested.
That’s all.

I mention this in the same way
that I fold the corner of a page

in certain library books,
so that the next reader will know

where to look for the good parts.

+ Tony Hoagland from Unincorporated Persons in the Late Honda Dynasty. © Graywolf Press, 2010.