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As the child wandered through the meadow, eyes wide with curiosity, I saw in their gaze a gift - one our cynical world often loses.
For the child, mundane things held mysteries just awaiting discovery. A butterfly's wings were like living jewels, each blade of grass a marvel unto itself.
When they spotted a rainbow arched in the afternoon sky, their joyous laugh rang out in sheer delight at this colorful miracle and spotting a rabbit dart into its hole, their imagination set to work envisioning the wonders that small burrow contained.
How I envied their ability to see magic where my jaded mind saw only what was predictable or known.
This child embraced the joy of not knowing, of letting fancy fill in the blanks and finding treasures where others saw only ordinary sights.
Perhaps if we could retain but a glimmer of that innocent wonder, this hard world would seem a little brighter.
For those with eyes to see it show the miracles in the everyday, each moment fresh and filled with simple splendors.
This child in many ways was the wise one, reminding me to see with eyes renewed.