Gratitude – Generous Wisdom

Today My Gratitude is Different

It’s like an angel set gratitude down in front of me and said,

This. Here. Like this.

And when I didn’t understand, another angel set relaxation down next to it, and said,

That. There. Like that.

And when I stared blankly,
they flew off together and took striving with them.

They left behind contentment,
and now my gratitude bears the absence of effort
and feels like being.

Of a November Morning

Venus adorns the morning’s crescent,
a glowing diamond in this eastern sky,
while waves of clouds roll beneath
the moon’s waning,

this daily joining in,
a practiced participation,
these lonely dives beneath love’s
surface, breaking into rocks of selfishness

where gleaming bands of diamonds
speak about grace,
sparkling mercies rolling beneath
our smiles, countless gifts

adorning our waxing joy,
sparks of patience and deference
and gifts of active grace
rolling through this mysterious sky.

An All-Saints Kind of Gratitude

I look back through Novemember’s
just-hanging-on leaves, the negative space
of our promises to drive through Malabar’s
winding road, taking in October’s blasts of color.
The weeks have whipped by, the leaves ignoring my
requests to stay, to never fall away, and my melancholy
drips bitter without the sweet.

Then I see our love’s first fruits hanging
on you, lying on you like so many apples,
our children’s morning sweetness, their bodies’
hard softness, wild hair, pokey elbows,
squishy bellies and meaty feet. They grow
unconditionally from our branches, buds,
and blossoms. They grow their own stems and leaves
and seeds and develop their own autumn flavors.

We drop away when we are ripe

thankful for what we are

what we have

and what we miss.