Everything is poetry.

Yesterday, I turned fourteen. I am so blessed to have such a supportive group of friends and family, and I certainly couldn’t have gotten through my thirteenth year without such help. This is something I’ve been noticing as I enter this new chapter in my life.

Everything can be made into poetry. From the bothersome city traffic to the soft neigh of the country horse, and the dreamy moonlit sky to the soft, wormy dirt, there are hidden morsels of wonder everywhere. Isn’t that just splendid? Hidden morsels of wonder. If we are the hunters, searching for nourishment, we must look deeper into the everyday occurrences and objects we so often take for granted.


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