He is the pastel sun strolling through your window.
He is the footprint in the snow,
the crinkled leaf on the sidewalk.
He is the blue egg,
cracking in the nest,
in the tree, by your porch.
He is the raindrop
slipping through the sunroof.
He is the bright light, shining
through the keyhole.
He is the footstep,
the door closing quietly,
the shadow by the door.
He is the star
not shining quite as brightly
as the one next to it.
He is the twenty dollars
you leave in last winter's coat.
He's the sticky note in your lunchbox,
telling you're beautiful.
He is us.
We are Him.
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