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Gratefulness
after a line from William Stafford
When the leaves are about to yellow and fall ask me then how I tried to hold on to what was green, how I thought perhaps I was different, how everything I thought I knew about gold turned brittle and brown. Ask me what it was like to fall then. Sometimes the world’s workings feel transparent and we know ourselves as the world. Sometimes the only words that can find our lips are thank you, though the gifts look nothing like anything we ever thought we wanted. Sometimes, gratitude arrives in us, not because we are willing, but because it insists on itself, like a weed, like a wind, like change.
Posted by kind permission of the poet. From Naked for Tea (Able Muse Press, 2018).
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