The miracles that surround us

I wrote recently about the beauty that surrounds us and how we often take it for granted.

Of course, I am not the first one to write about ordinary beauty. With a little effort, I found these words from Walt Whitman’s “Leaves of Grass.”

Why, who makes much of a miracle?
As to me I know of nothing else by miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of the water,
Or stand under the trees in the woods.

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