Magic is what happens when the sun rises

Transmuting the land into gold

Like generations of alchemists have not

With all their philosophy

And rare minerals

And the teeth of something that promised

To be a unicorn but was in fact

Something wilder still

Magic is what happens not

When we chase the impossible

Finned women and maned snakes

And potions that will make him love you

Or make you fly

Or change you immutably into something you are not

Magic is what happens when we still our minds

And look out upon the land

Not at what could be but what is

Things so unbelievable

That you can hold in your hand

The shimmering of twilight off the water

And the iridescence of a hummingbird’s throat

The mathematical perfection of a snowflake,

A nautilus shell, the feathery curl of a fern

The way that every night the sun sets

And every morning it rises

As we hurtle through an endless universe

Of stars and planets that call to each other

In ways we don’t understand

On a scale our minds were not designed to grasp

Magic is what we make it

In a world where the sun rises

On endless possibility

That we need only reach out and take