A Poem to Celebrate All Things Imperfect

It may not be the May you had hoped for,

all cold slop of bare branches,

or the relationship you had envisioned,

(because even the most God-sent relationship

still has to pay bills and do the dishes)

or even the life you wanted for yourself.

But it is the perfect day

and in this perfect day,

you can see how the long winter

and heavy snows turned

this spit of an occasional creek

into a life-stirring roar,

passing just outside

your window.

Heidi Fettig Parton

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