photography, Rants and raves, San Miguel de Allende, Writings

In San Miguel de Allende, give us this day our daily miracle

I say it often, perhaps insufferably often for some people, but every day that I step out the front door in San Miguel de Allende, I expect a miracle to happen.

Oh, not a big miracle. Not always.

Just little miracles.

Like the smile on the face of a mother herding her three children toward the church.

Like the carpet of lavender jacaranda flowers worked into a patch of cobblestones.

Like the jungle smell of Parque Juarez after an afternoon downpour — a thing that actually has a name: petrichor.

Like the shifting light of sunrise on the side of the Parroquia San Miguel de Arc Angel.

Like the times you happen upon a parade or procession when you only set out to collect the mail.

Like the miniature china tea cup that tumbled unbroken onto a cobblestone street.

Like the time your housekeeper’s young daughter came to work with her and left you a drawing and a poem.

Like a mariachi band in the park, helping a young couple remember their first kiss.

Like the resilient flower that grows out of a tiny niche in a stone wall.

Like the predawn chorus of seven species of birds in the wall of vines.

Like a startlingly fierce sunset that burns like a furnace while dark clouds roil like storm-tossed waves.

Like the glass and chrome marbles that hide amongst the cobblestones like Easter eggs, after a torrential storm.

The miracle isn’t that these things occur.

Because they happen all the time.

No, the miracle is that we stop to appreciate them, cherish them, react to them, remember them.

All around us, little miracles audition for our attention.

We slow down to notice the sun refracts the light through a crystalline grain of sand.

We see a small rock, unlike all the others in a pile and try to imagine its journey.

We notice the wrinkled dark skin of an ancient door and pray for the old soul trapped inside the wood.

We look twice at the gargoyle and wonder, did it just wink, or is that a trick of the black lichen stains?

In San Miguel, a cool breeze on a blue-sky day can feel like a tiny miracle.

The picture above is one such miracle.

The leaves, twigs, and flower were assembled by the wind and sidewalk friction in Parque Juarez.

It came together as a fully formed piece of art. (Can you see the egret perched on one “branch”? The javelin thrower? The swimmer?)

After just one photograph, the fickle wind reassembled the collage and sent pieces skittering toward the basketball courts.

I feel blessed for being given that moment. An exhibition of high art, never to return in quite the same way nor at the same place.

Small things. Small miracles.

Ours for the taking.

If we only open our doors, open our hearts, open our eyes, open our minds and step into the moment.


Put more magic in your life!

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12 thoughts on “In San Miguel de Allende, give us this day our daily miracle

  1. lindainsma says:

    Margo, thank you for your poem. Every day I’m grateful to be alive. I’m grateful to have sight, smell and hearing to be able to appreciate all those little miracles. Linda

    Liked by 1 person

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