Waiting For the Magic to Hit

I know

If I wait long enough,

Sit quietly long enough,

Listen long enough,

Some small miracle

Will present itself.

Perhaps the sun will dance

In silver slippers on the water,

Or the wind will become visible,

Bullying the snow ahead of it.

I might see the silver flash

Of a hunting ermine,

Or hear the voice of an icicle

Weeping at its own demise.

I can breathe the world in

Through nose and eye and ear

Breathe it out again through the pen.

Silence and language meet

In the mind of a poet.