Tag Archives: wonder



sometimes in the day,
sometimes at night
I walk outside and in,

all around the wooded property
not looking for anything
in particular, nothing really

but this and that, hoping,
no, not hoping: wondering
if the incessant searching

or hunting or waiting
for something to happen,
to move, from beneath
the thing I call my life,
will give it buoyancy.


chris woodhull

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aesthetic outburst


What a wonder it would be if we believed. That life is meaningful. Or better yet, precious. That beauty is necessary. That children deserve our full attention and teach us things. That babies are works of art. That books are thresholds. That meals are shared. That silence is the doorway to sound. That laughter belongs in our hearts as much as kindness and generosity.

What a wonder it would be if we washed dishes by hand. Ironed our own shirt and trousers, slowly. Took pictures. Painted. Rang doorbells. Threw parties for whoever comes to mind.

What a wonder it would be if we slowed down and noticed who we were with. Who loves us. Who said hello this morning. Who let us go first. Who thought of us. Who taught us to tie our shoes or ride a bike.

What a wonder it would be if we

delayed our concerns

and fell in love.


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