Small —
so very small.
Not delicately small, mind you . . .
fiercely small,
like a feral cat
sleeping unnoticed beneath a leafy bower,
sunflakes like salt seasoning the surface,
most always overlooked —
another blade of grass in the meadow,
a grain of sand on the shore that stretches beyond the horizon.
The world will die
unaware for the most part
that it bore
within the being of this small, wild thing
the very heart
of its Creator.

But I have seen
and have been touched
and blessed
by you,
small
wonder-full
you.

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