An Ordinary Miracle

(for my granddaughter Athena)

I’m drawn first to the fingers,
for their craftsmanship and eloquence,
for their exquisite reproduction 
of the ones now gently holding them,
right down to the creases
in those tiny knuckles.

How? is all that I can think of
in her presence.
She tests the absence of my faith
when I first see her,
like a ship inside a bottle,
impossible to explain 
with any law of nature.

Something like a miracle,
requiring a surrender to
belief again to accept 
that what I see
with my own eyes
is real.