Tis the season for Miracles!!!

It's pretty obvious that poems are not really my strong suit, so it was surprising to like so many poems this quarter! Walt Whitman's Miracles is probably tied for first! I think it's the simplicity of the poem that makes it so beautiful just like it's the simple things in life that make you happy! For me a miracle is standing on my grandmas roof in Nazareth, overlooking the whole city! Or, sitting by the crackling fire when the wind is howling outside your window (while watching a Harry Potter movie for a bonus point!) What makes this so special to me, is realizing that everyone has a different definition of a miracle! When someone thinks of a miracle, I think the first thing that comes to mind is a medical miracle or something really out of the ordinary happening but to me it can also mean something that's special to you. Something that someone else won't understand but to you it can mean the whole world! Most people wouldn't understand my first miracle, but let's switch lives for a second, you'd understand why standing on that roof is the equivalent of a Christmas miracle to me! You'd understand that it symbolizes family, love, and home to me! It's a miracle and I get to call it my own! :)

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?