POEM: Everyday Magic

If you can't see the magic in
a flower or a leaf,
how can you see it in the work
of some cutpurse thief?

And if you can't see it in stars
of a hinter night sky,
how can you see it in the tricks -- 
a conjuror's slick lie? 

There's woe in where we find great awe --
those simple illusions.
And what we miss reflects our keen
everyday delusions.

2 thoughts on “POEM: Everyday Magic

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