The Present by Nikita Gill

As I was sad today, I went out walking again. And some people will say that isn't poem worthy. But poetry lives in everything ordinary even walks where you pretend the trees are your family.

And though it was cold, I bought some strawberry ice cream. I also sang back at a blackbird's scream while an old man laughed delightedly and called me crazy.

I stopped at the corner park to watch autumn's first call, as a show of ochre and amber and flame leaves danced and fell.

On the way back home, I thought of all these little happenings and how well they helped me survive. Despite anguish-ridden bones, I returned home feeling most alive.

— Where Hope Comes From by Nikita Gill (Page 48)