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All the Bees

It’s all I have to bring today—
This, and my heart beside—
This, and my heart, and all the fields—
And all the meadows wide—
Be sure you count—should I forget
Some one the sum could tell—
This, and my heart, and all the Bees
Which in the Clover dwell
— Emily Dickinson, It’s all I have to bring today

We are more than the best we can muster up in a day. The world is more. Surely, the universe too. And we are a part of it. Some days the magic finds us, some days it flows elsewhere. If we aren’t frivolous with our ration of magic, we might make it last just long enough to make something of the day.

There is only so much magic to spread around on some rainy Mondays. And anyway, I wonder about all the bees. Who’s job is it to count them anyway? Maybe the same crew tasked with counting the number of coffee beans necessary for a pound of coffee. Measured just so, a proper ration of beans makes all the difference on mornings such as this one.

It seems magic is all around us, and it’s not about finding it, the trick is to simply see it. It lingers in the clover, whispers in the rain, and gently nudges a nose at us when we aren’t paying enough attention. Be present, it reminds us, and the ration is yours. Be sure to share it.

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