When the Smallest Thing Is Loved

by Robert Sund

When the smallest thing is loved,

the greatest thing

is loved.

Between the great and the small

it should be easy to find a home.

       More than a handful of sand;

       less than the night sky.

       A shadow

       brightening

       and staying on a while.

From Taos Mountain, Anacortes, Washington: Poet’s House Press, 2007, page 26. This is the sanctuary of mind that welcomes haiku.