by James Webb
I’m sitting in someone’s living room, with a small group of people. We’re in silence, though it’s not an awkward silence. We’re waiting and thinking and praying. We’re about to take communion together. Read more
(A serious thought became this not-so-serious poem. I’m not sure that the ten-syllables per line experiment really works, nor am I totally thrilled with the rhyme in the last verse, but it’ll do.)
Have you ever discovered something big
hidden away in a minuscule place?
Maybe something obvious, but more like
a raindrop that’s reflecting a child’s face.
We’re used to seeing small things in the big,
like grains of sand hidden amongst a beach,
or the grains of truth buried deep, hidden
within a major politician’s speech.
What’s the biggest thing you’ve ever noticed
hidden away inside something that’s small?
An elephant in a matchbox, perhaps,
or maybe nothing that silly at all?
As for me, I bet I’ve got you all beat,
for I had the most magnificent find.
You see, today I found the universe
in a scrap of bread and a sip of wine.
