Like mist our sense of
thanks can drift away.
We lose perspective.
We forget we are blessed.
We allow ourselves to be
trampled by the ever on-
going rush of living.
We become consumed rather
than consumers. Hearts not
aware of how much we have.
In its place is what we lack.
Or we ever-dance to detail.
Bounty unrealized.
Unnoticed in the flood.
Gratitude for life,
Gratitude for the
opportunity of choice.
Gratitude for love.
For the moments to love.
Gratitude for times past,
Gratitude for simple things.
Basic things, for elemental
things. For fire, food, friends.
For touch, sight, hearing.
For passion to care,
for grief that touches on love.
Oh Great Spirit, we squander
away the hours, often dulled,
unaware of the festival of
light, the ocean waters
in which we swim.
To be released is what we
yearn for. To be freed is
gratitude’s invitation
to the dance.
Make us draw deeply
from the well of what
this world offers.
We thank you for sight.
But are amazed at the
optics of beauty we see.
Gratitude waits for when
the thank-you grows silent.
When words depart.
It alights when we are filled
with amazement, toppled by
the unexpected, caught up
in the wild ceilidh of
life and of living.
Gratitude lives in the bones.
Gratitude is the
singer of songs
but can never
be the song.
Gratitude is
second-cousin
to Mystery.
Gratitude waits
for the dog
to finally
howl
at the moon.
A work in progress, taken from a
new book with the working title:
Spirit Journey - Free-Verse Poetry
for the Christian Heart.