gold-washed sky

by Abby Smoker




tell me how it is that the ugliest days can be redeemed 

by a single sunset, gold and shimmering blush

washed across the sky–

who wrote it into the world 

that the smallest, gentlest things should save us

from calling these our rockiest days?

who decided a kind note at 8am should affect us like fairy dust

who designed stars to pour us full with wonder

or trained healthy laughter to be so contagious? 

it is a challenge to label anything 

as utterly desolate

on a planet such as this, where Heaven

so stubbornly starts to manifest 

in glimpses, and in gifts. 


it’s true, 

we are broken by small things. 

sometimes, invisible taps 

crack us like porcelain. 

but it strikes me how easily

the small things can seal us, too. 

how gracefully our daily universes 

can ease resentment

from our shoulders

and replace it

with something tender, hopeful, 

and just a little lighter. 



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