when today’s random miracles are gathered
in the cargo holds of departed dreams
fuelled by the sound of sirens coming down the street
and stopping next door one appreciates even more
the intractable lines of Czech verse, translated.
the left-over dhal and rice.
the gift of home-grown tomatoes
to be sliced and eaten with salt.
nothing then
is too much or too little.
things come and go.
we rejoice
in what is given