The Molecular Miracles Of My Every Day Modern Existence

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I’m certain
That angels
Do not look
Anything like
Bob, with his button-slathered 
VA cap, 
who is
Putting the squeeze on a potential
Melon
In the Piggly Wiggly
Or, say, Maureen O’Sullivan
In the movies
Anymore than 
Jesus looked
Like Dan Fogelberg
In his prime
Because
2000 years ago
Not having 
Advil
People 
Bore holes in their heads
Or simply wore
Dead moles as migraine hats 
So as far as I am concerned,
I am so on my own.

In lieu
Of dismissing any form of
God entirely
Over time
Which seems to move faster
Than any Ford
Or Ferrari
I find that 
The spiritual part of me
Finds satisfaction
Not in the invisible
Speculative
Part of faith
But rather in the far more tangible
Molecular miracles of my everyday
Modern existence
Which serve as 
proof positive of a higher 
Power
That include things like
The a cappella opening of “Because”
The feeling that you get when you
Flip open a pizza box
Like an old school magician
The heart text that you get
When you see a faraway brunette
Walking her golden doodle
And wish that you had a pair of
Binoculars to see if she’s wearing
A ring.
The thrill of watching 
The arch of a baseball soaring
Towards the beer throngs of the bleachers
The messages that are transmitted through the
Eyes of a beloved pet
The delicate sound of a Chopin Waltz
Whose musicians seem to 
Include the infinity of rain
The first moments of spring
Which always feels like
A flower and leaf  
surprise party 
Held just for me
The current of a river in summer that seems
To have a mind of its own
In the kind of storms
That gave Huck and Jim that 
Extra shove.
The nighttime sky
Whose stars
cherish the final breath
Of everyone that we’ve ever lost
Our dreams
Those fully staged theatrical
Productions
That have played even longer
Than Wicked
Footprints that we leave behind
As proof positive
That we once walked through
The wet sand along the shore
And the voices of 
Authors
Who at first sing a quiet
Duet with us
And then
Through the astonishment of
Faith and truth
Suddenly lift us off the ground
As we spread the
Wings which we were 
All born with
Which allow us to fly
In the general direction
Towards
Whatever we believe
Or know for sure
Heaven is.

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