Snow at the end of May, of course it melts into stars.
My husband told me once that I’m happiest when I’m taking pictures.
Maybe it’s because he knows that I’ll come back in able to see again
See things like today’s aspen leaves strung like medallions in the rain
And I watched without breathing because the tree quivered like she was about to dance and twirl and jingle, and I wanted to see it.
He knows I’ll find those stars growing from dirt
And watch tears clinging bright on some green thing
Bright because they’re filled with joy
Joy that I miss when I’m too busy to look at the small things and really see them for what they are.
It’s always the thing just outside my front door that makes the best photograph, and it’s a learned art to find it.
But it will always, always be there just waiting to be seen and praise given to God for it.
It just might look much different than what you thought you were after in the first place.