The Smallest Miracle Poem by Robert Glass

The dust mote
Had been drifting for many years;
Its trek had placed it
In every nook and niche
Of the worlds contours.
Hurricanes, tornadoes,
Gales, and breezes
Had brought it
Through sunshine, rain,
And snow -
The journey was never ending.
I was sitting on the park bench -
Shadows weaving geometric shapes
Dappled the grass.
When I noticed her,
She had already walked by,
Never giving our gazes a chance to collide.
I sighed,
And took a soothing breath -
The inhaled air
Carried the dust mote...
And I sneezed.
The girl turned,
And my life was changed forever
By the smallest miracle.