It’s one of those things you take for granted,
fail to see, having shared space with it so long
that you think of it no more often than you think,
say, of the nail on the little toe on your left foot.
It’s like the geranium I mentioned earlier,
blooming its heart out over there on the hearth.
Yet here it is, a mind-boggling absolute miracle,
this green grace of branches that dances
outside the north windows day after day.
How we flatter ourselves to think we are aware,
hey?