I am not religious,
But sometimes I see God swaying between palm trees,
Long robes flapping along to The Beatles at sunset.

I see Him in the way the boy in my math class always holds the door,
And in the way my friends shoes always match her outfits.
I see Him in the tiny miracles, the quick glances between people.

I see Him in the small shy smile when two lovers eyes meet,
I see Him on the dance floor of a country bar, smiling wide and
stomping His cowboy boots to a Tim McGraw song.

I hear Him in the gentle lullaby of water against sand,
Taste Him in my mothers homemade cranberry orange bread;
I feel Him in the wind, powering my sails and tangling my hair.

I see Him in my high school class pictures, standing tall and awkward,
Almost hidden behind acne-covered faces in the back.
I hear Him in sweet laughter, and see Him in my sister’s smile.

I am not a religious person.
I have never been to church, and will likely never go.
But when I look out my window, I see some sort of god,
A figure explaining the beauty I am lucky to know.