This morning I heard the soft, steady hum of a small room fan

Felt the plush, chilled leather of an old man’s recliner

Gathered heavy-laden limbs from my wayward wisteria tree

Lush begonias propped nearby—in a cracked concrete planter

This morning I heard two sparrows uttering a one-to-one love call

Pondered the angst-driven interplay of squirrels wrestling for ground food

Discouragement of scattered leaves clamoring for autumn stillness

Then saw my grandchild’s toy lying— where he last played

This morning I heard the huddled throng of random laughter and chaos

Felt the variegated bodies of middle-schoolers in narrow hallways

Observed their scuttled feet making leaps to a readied classroom

With crumpled hoodies and tangled headphones wrapped about

arms guarded with wireless laptops— being wired for success

It all reminds me…assures me that life contains speckled pockets

of unexplainable joy in the midst of pain and anguish.