Thanks Be for These

For the sound of bow on string,
Of breath over reed,
Of touch on keyboard;

For slants of sunlight through windows,
For shimmering shadows on snow,
For the whisper of wind on my face;

For the smooth skin of an apple,
For the caress of a collar on my neck;

For the prickling of my skin when I am deeply moved,
For the pounding of my heart when I run,
For the peace of soul at day’s end;

For familiar voices in family rites,
For the faces of friends in laughter and tears,
For the tender human arms that hold me;

For the flashes of memories that linger,
For the mysterious moments that beckon,
For the particularity of this instant;

For the silence of moon-lit nights,
For the sound of rain on my roof,
Of wind in dry leaves,
Of waves caressing the shore;

For the softness of summer breezes,
For the crispness of autumn air,

For dark shadows on white snow,
For the resurrection of spring,
For the faithful turning of the seasons;

For angular, leafless trees,
For gentle hills rolling in the distance,
For meandering streams seeking an unseen sea;

For cornstalks at stiff attention,
And brittle plants bristling past their prime,
Forunharvestedgardens returning plants to enrich the soil;

For the sight of familiar faces,
The sound of our spoken names,
The welcoming embrace of outstretched arms;
For the ritual of friendship,
Reminding us we matter:
Thanks be for these.

Kids on a swing, hanging from a mighty oak tree.