Where There Be Dragons

As Evan and I wade deep into unchartered territory, a number of wonderful books about magic have found their way into my hands...

They speak of reverence for the raw material of the universe.

Devotionals

I. The sound of the moment is a pterodactyl call.

II. You have given your father the gift of song.

III. Grins turn your gray eyes into crescents.

IV. You follow each cluster of sneezes with a coo.

V. Your hands and feet run cold to the touch.

VI. Your belly button is both an innie and an outie.

VII. You are in cahoots with your great-grandmother.

VIII. Your lost eyelashes dust my chest.

IX. My hair twines between your fingers.

X. Your upset addressed, you regain repose.

XI. Your crevices are lint traps.

XII. You are a feast of delicacies.

XIII. Your finger nails grow astonishingly fast. 

Too often I assume an overfamiliarity with the world. I look away and forget the miracle of it all. I turn back and the sacred mystery washes over me once more. It is a wonder that attention is so hard to sustain.