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Gratefulness
This might be the best I’ll ever feel, these aches, these pains, this deep fatigue— maybe as good as it’s going to get
I am reading Thich Nhat Hanh on the art of living practicing I have arrived on the in-breath I am home on the exhale trying to turn each day into prayer
This morning I’m grateful for the neighbor’s crowing rooster, the best light which arrives at dawn when hills seem most themselves
For this bowl of crunchy granola and my friend who made it presented in a crisp paper bag tied with red & white ribbon
For the Word for the Day–bibelot— & its goofy synonyms: bauble, curio, curiosity, doodad, gewgaw, knickknack, novelty, tchotchke, trinket
for old colorful things surrounding me. Fiestaware, kitschy salt & pepper shakers in the antique bookcase (glassed in how do they gather dust?)
Friends, too. Ones who get my jokes and know how to show up. For Chagall’s floating couple—they hold pastel hands and for my hands, though sore and bent
from chemo and meds, fingers number than my heart, fumbling to hook my bra, button my shirt. Handwriting shifted to scrawl
For the woman still asleep in the bedroom, and our love, which took hold on its own three decades ago and stays strong. For being here still. Still being, here
For the sun, which will set tonight without my asking and rise again tomorrow and I might, too, saying over and over: thank you thank you thank you
Posted by kind permission of the poet. Photo by Jane Gutting.
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