As I have gotten older

I’ve become more aware

Of the little things

Having been bombarded by

The grand things of

Life I have sought

Refuge in the quiet

Things raindrops on eaves

The scratching of fall

Leaves and ant hills

That seem to erupt

Overnight through sidewalk cracks

The slower things like

Inch by delicate inch

Of freshly fallen snow

That crawls against windows

And plump caterpillars that

Wind and weave munching

Polka dots in green

On their way to

Emerging butterfly and oh

Yes love as called

Accepting it rather than

Seeking it there’s comfort

In the little slow

Things that simply show

Up for no other

Reason than being themselves

And I taking notice