God is in the details
Tiny seeds in flowers.
New Violet remembrances of my grandma, transplanted from one home that’s no longer mine to a new landing spot.
Silver leaf Texas sage that offers
thanks for the rain with small lavender flowers.
A man in a parking lot with the car doors open, scattering crumbs for pigeons and small smiles to grumpy traffic
Heartbeat. Breath. Synchronous simplicity that keeps us alive.
Do we ever stop to notice?
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I love the random image of man in 4th stanza of poem. Poem already says your question in last line—consider nixing it?