I've been thinking about magical realism in prose, but today someone mentioned a poem that embodies the magic all around us without ever actually leaving the realism. Pattiann Rogers' stupendous meditation,"Find the Cat in a Spring Field at Midnight" does everything but levitate the cat -- which I would totally have accepted. But Rogers makes the cat vanish and unvanish, Cheshire Cat style, without ever actually leaving the field of realism.
Here's the poem, from the December, 1982 issue of Poetry Magazine. In "the star-mingled calls of the toads" the poem steps lightly out of the commonplace and never returns. "It takes a peculiar vision ..." Indeed, it takes a visionary like Pattian Rogers.