August rolling in under stormy skies
and my heart pounding hard on the keys,
singing songs I’ve never heard before
while strong winds blowing in some cool change
and I need to pull thanks around me snug
to keep out the chill
because I’m unnerved
and gratitude has the potent power to steady
where we tremble.
I want to be curious in the places where I shy,
to be open to the mystery of the messy in-betweens
and so I fling ebullient thanks for summer soup growing wild,
for blossom to apples, tender sprouts to pickles in a jar,
and baby bump to laughing child,
to lean into it grateful
the hope I hold inside
for a roominess of life
that feels like somewhere made of sky
Now can be delicious,
and it’s what I’ve got,
a rich full slice of it to notice and nuzzle.
And what’s around the riverbend that we can’t dare to see?
…. it may be startling goodness
we wouldn’t ask or dream.
“If you don’t die from thirst, there are blessings in the desert.
You can be pulled into limitlessness, which we all yearn for,
or you can do the beauty of minutia, the scrimshaw of tiny and precise.
The sky is your ocean, and the crystal silence will uplift
like great gospel music, or Neil Young.”