You are missing something.
Right now. This minute.
It's your life.
What happens when you are doing something else.
The bloom opening between breaths.
The tap of first rain.
Silent minutes that neglect to announce their passing.
They belonged to you,
gifts showered one by one.
You were meant to pick them up,
smell each in its turn,
let it run down your hand and arm
until it becomes only cool shine,
and makes room for more.
I sometimes fear that, having ignored too many little drops,
I how hear only the crash of life's wave,
bearing down, almost to shore.
But I looked up today,
and it came.
The one drop.
Fragrant, cool, sweet with washing.
This one, I kept, and savored,
remembering that the waterfall would never roar
if each droplet, in its turn, did not fall.
Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfall.--Psalm 42:7