The Attentive Eye There was something that at first I didn’t see in the branches of that leaf-stripped tree.
A thing of beauty made from strands of stuff that weren’t very pretty, …
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The Attentive Eye
There was something
that at first
I didn’t see
in the branches
of that leaf-stripped tree.
A thing of beauty
made from strands of stuff
that weren’t very pretty,
barely enough
A being I will never know
took pains to weave perfection
out of ordinary items.
I almost passed it by
(my eye turned inward)
unaware of the wonder there—
the fragile cup that cradled miracles,
long since fledged and flown,
into the sky with wild cries.
© Sandy Long
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