We all wait for a miracle to happen to us, but what about the miracles that are happening around us?

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In this beautifully, elegant poem by Walt Whitman, he makes us question what a miracle really is. Is it something that just happens at the right time when all hope is lost, or is it all around us? Nature, love, friendship, and life itself is a miracle.

Walt uses his poetry to open our eyes to what we all may be dismissing, the miracles around us. From the way a night breeze can cool you off on a hot smoldering summer day, to the tiniest snowflakes in the dead of winter. Miracles surround us everyday, we just don't see them for the miracles they really are. 

Once again, Walt shows us that even the most simplistic things in life are those that have the most wonder. 

Miracle

Why, who makes much of a miracle?
As to me I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of the
        water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love, or sleep in the bed at night
        with any one I love,
Or sit at table at dinner with the rest,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive of a summer
        forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so
        quiet and bright,
Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring;
These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,
The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place.

To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the
        same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same.

To me the sea is a continual miracle,
The fishes that swim—the rocks—the motion of the waves—the
        ships with men in them,
What stranger miracles are there?

-Walt Whitman

https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/miracles-0