Signs & Wonders

The first time that it happened

I was half-court in the gym.

Rimless like LeBron does

in his sleep. Only the custodian

present, failing to pivot his

head at the sound

of the swish.

And then my twirl of a silver

dollar on a desk. Rotating as

a pulsar, like a skater’s

Biellmann spin

that garners gold

and 10.0. Price of arriving

early with no one there.

Third you shrieked yeehaw!—

from the Mount Logan of

your lungs—slamming the door

behind you. So much for my

Burj Khalifa of

cards. All you saw

was a mess of Solitaire.

My stone will skip

from one end of the ocean

to the other, as long

as you’re fixated by the

leapfrog of the clouds,

waiting to tell me miracles

only happen when

our gaze is turned away,

bashful little rascals

that they are. 

Andreas Gripp

January 4, 2026

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