I Look for Gifts in Unusual Places

I look for gifts in unusual places
The quiet lonely spaces 
And the lots overgrown.

The tangle of words 
Where a thought shines free,
The memory that holds a life:
Who am I to refuse these things? 

The glimpse of a seed 
Or the leaves blowing restless – see,
My own words, my own worth, 
Is held in a thing just as small.

I speak only this, 
Words too important not to say:
The story of countless other
May otherwise sleep untold,

But they gift infinity within their glimpse of life.