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Gratefulness
After Ross Gay
He is right; if we choose to look, we just might believe it’s there in the first chirp of the day and the body awakening to hear it, in the black wings weaving through champagne leaves, in the spark of coffee with the essay that ends with the words, renovating love, for gold snails on the busy sidewalk, for the elixir of friendship in the dark shell of winter, for each small note from the universe and its cheerful persistence, even today, with a new tumor on the back of my dog’s leg, to encourage delight in her oblivious exuberance, and let that be what sustains me.
Posted by kind permission of the poet.
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