Little Things

The poet may write of little things, But how grand they become when they spread their wings, Taking to the sky on their maiden flight, Like quivering beams, they cast out the night The singer chants but a simple tune That rises to delight the ear of the moon, A song born of heartfelt love will unfold A melody that's more precious than gold It's little things that should make us pause: Dear friends we find priceless, in spite of their flaws, Their warm embrace is there for the taking, They bring comfort when your heart is breaking When we cry for help, a hand extends, For all of life's miseries, love makes amends, The rain storm that makes us run and cower Coaxes each bud to bloom on the bower And so we must search the earth and skies For little treasures that thrill our ears and eyes, From a branch he calls home, the robin sings, For he knows the value of little things