Poem by Jim Culleny

‘tis the little things, y’ know.
the way we came to inhabit a sphere
ninety-three million miles from a blazing star
—a few million closer, we’d be toast

‘tis the little things, for sure‘tis a little thing the way I wake in the morning
dreaming a new day, such a miniscule nada,
a dot
upon
a dot
dead center of a universe without reason

‘tis the little things, for sure

‘tis a little thing the way the toast pops up
in the morning, ‘tis magic that took
billions of years to enter the picture
to brown two sides of bread at once
in the kitchen of a little castle

 ‘tis the little things, for sure

‘tis a little thing that we met one day
among the multitudes who dance upon
the surface of a sphere who ever chase
the big thing of why? the impossible thing

’tis the little thing of those last four lines above,
among all the unknown possibilities,
of all the little things, ‘tis the one
that changed my heart

‘tis the little things, for sure

Jim Culleny, 8/1/24