I give thanks for this beautiful day,
the moon once stationed
over us, slowly fading as the sun
crawls from his cave on the other side of the planet,
and sends his fingers through
the white curtains, onto my face
as I brew coffee.
I give thanks for the passing
of the sun from one corner of his office
to the other,
how each section of the day feels
differently, the rise and crash of energy and focus.
I give thanks
for the living creatures here with me,
to the peregrine falcon
at watch on phone wires;
for the foxes in the barn.
For them I am grateful for the company,
a reminder that we are only one type
of being on Earth
and each of us together makes
the web of identity. Thanks
For the effort it takes to peel an orange.
For the phrase “a pinch of salt.”
For the smell of cut grass.
For the seeds we plant each spring and the crop we harvest each fall.
For the hot glove of a fireplace. For the cool kiss of breeze.
For laughter and games and a glass of wine.
For creating art from just a pencil and a muse.
For the ideas of children and the whisper of wind.
For the sound of branches breaking in dead weight.
For a strong and resonating drumbeat.
For the moment you come inside from a long day being out.
For building more bridges than we burn.
For the understanding that not everything goes as planned.
For the pleasure of learning your plan wasn’t a very good one, anyway.
For holding someone’s hand as if you were holding their soul.
For staying and returning.
For finding something new you like to do, even though you’re older.
For those interesting things, like sculpture, that you don’t do,
but think is great to exist in the world for others.
And this moment as it comes and goes,
with all its struggle, pain, and seriousness-
also the joy, the beauty;
all its freedom, passion,
for all its wisdom, the hush and cry;
for the ever passing moment of Now.
For this we can be most thankful
because it surely is enough.