Love Poems

I once told you each day is a love poem -

comprised of the
      -small-
 everyday moments.

The mismatched
striped socks,

smiles drawn
in frost,

searching
for stars and
singing
about rainbows.

And they are, aren't they?

Love poems?

Something beautiful and rare...

"Perhaps he has never considered the invisible lines that run through his knitting, as they do through mine.
     But I consider those lines.  And I see them in other places.  In the carefully placed blueberries on top of my locally made muffin.  What was the baker thinking about when she made it?  Will I taste a difference if she was worried about her ailing grandmother or dreaming about her boyfriend?  Or in the way my mailman delivered my mail today?  I'll never know what he felt as he dropped the circulars into my box, but I can guarantee this: He felt something, and if he was upset about the argument he'd had that morning with his wife, I hope that the act of clicking my mailbox shut and latching my gate acted as a kind of mechanical prayer.
     The sensation of yarn slipping through my fingers has taught me that rote work, like dropping mail into boxes or placing blueberries on muffins or knitting garter stitches with bamboo needles, is seldom just an action, it is a wish, a dream, a desire; usually it is a distillation of all of these into a single overriding emotion: hope."  -- A Life in Stitches: Knitting My Way Through Love, Loss and Laughter, by Rachael Herron

After reading Rachael's words I am even more certain.

The moments
            and breaths
of our days
-are-
comprised
of
wishes,
dreams,
and desires.

Distillations
of
all
these things
into
a
single
overriding
emotion:

Love.

Don't you see it?

Love,
me