What does it mean to live,
to really live?
Watching six kittens play in the yard next door
Making up silly titles to holy songs at church
Trimming an out-of-control weed bush as if it were long-stemmed roses
The mundane. The unimportant.
Is that what it means to really live?
The kids on bikes wheeling down the road
The name-less neighbor who waves as I drive by
The flock of birds outside the window that scatter as I raise the shade
The unacknowledged. The barely seen.
Are they what life is really about?
I think I’ve been missing something
in my perpetual search for meaning.
I think I have been blind and deaf and unaware.
Life is happening all around me.
Meaning is there, in the essential little things.