IT'S A MIRACLE
(Peter Krug, 1987)

Early in the morning when I open my eyes
And I see the dawn spread across the skies,
There's just no way I can ever deny
It's a miracle.
Outside my window birds are singing,
Tree to tree I see them winging,
And every new moment is sure to be bringing
A miracle.

CHORUS
It's a miracle that the flowers grow,
It's a miracle that the breezes blow,
It's a miracle that the rivers flow forever to the sea.
It's a miracle that the rain comes down,
It's a miracle that the world turns round,
And the finest miracle I ever have found
Is the miracle of you and me.

You can see it in the wings of butterflies,
You can see it in children's eyes,
So many little things make you realize
It's a miracle.
When summer turns to winter
And the spring rolls round,
And little green things poke out of the ground,
Every little piece of magic that you ever have found
Is a miracle.
CHORUS

People who run for the dollar bill,
The shiny long car or the house on the hill,
They never seem to notice that the world is filled
With miracles.
Down in your chest your heart is thumping,
Through your body your blood is pumping,
Being alive, now ain't that something?
It's a miracle.
CHORUS

Now in a world of war and hate and killing,
I can understand why some aren't willing
To look at life as a grand and thrilling
Miracle.
But with all the suffering and all the pain,
And all the dreams that are dreamed in vain,
People get back up and try again —
Now that's a miracle.
CHORUS

From Peter Krug: A few years ago I lived in a 10' by 12' cabin on a ridge near Occidental (California). On one side of my bed I had a little wood stove and on the other my electric coffee pot. On cold winter mornings I would stick one hand out of the covers and light the stove, then stick the other hand out and plug in the coffee pot. In ten minutes the coffee would be done and the cabin would be warm. I would sit up in bed and watch the morning sun touch the treetops on the ridge opposite, then creep down the hillside; and I would drink my coffee. With such a luxurious waking-up ritual, I naturally started each day feeling really great. So one morning, while thinking about how utterly marvelous life is, I wrote this song.

Source: Broadside Magazine Issue 182, September 1987, page 16.

Reprinted from the Folknik the newsletter of the San Francisco Folk Music Club

Also reprinted from Folknik in Sing Out! Magazine, Volume 33, No. 3, Spring 1988 (pp. 24-25)