be thankful for each break in the clouds
Photo by J. Harrington
|
As for other things I'm thankful for today, sometimes we just have to work with what we have. I'm thankful that the sky is still blue, I'd lost track with all the gray cloud cover; that there is still a sun in the sky, it's been awhile since we've seen it; and that it's no colder than it is. I'm trying, but failing, to be thankful that our persistent cloud cover keeps some residual heat from escaping into space. But, I'm thankful that the bitterly cold weather has motivated me, aided and abetted by the Better Half [BH], to undertake some long overdue indoor chores. There's a residual decluttering getting done now that the Daughter Person and Son-In-Law are established in their own abode and the weather is no longer "too nice to stay inside." (To be honest, while decluttering, we're still uncovering some things that go back years, to the time there was a home based consulting business based in this house. We just haven't been able to bring ourselves to dispose of an overabundance of envelopes that "we might still use.")
I'm thankful that today the email inbox contained news of some upcoming climate change conversations, plus local Fridays for the Future events. I feel less frustrated, and a little less angry, when there's an opportunity to do something more about the major issues we face than just snipe about them on social media. I'm thankful I don't have to travel into the Twin Cities to be involved in helping to create a sustainable world that offers the prospect of a future worth having for the younger generations.
I'm thankful the BH is fixing split pea soup for tonight's dinner. I'm thankful that I finally found a "missing" book, a companion to Aldo Leopold's A Sand County Almanac although, in the search process, I'm disappointed to discover I've once again acquired a duplicate copy of a different book because I've not yet (and may never) created a card catalogue of my library. If that turns out to be my biggest problem this week, I'll be grateful for that. In fact, each day I try to remember to be thankful for all the things that could have gone wrong, but didn't.
Facing It
My black face fades,hiding inside the black granite.I said I wouldn'tdammit: No tears.I'm stone. I'm flesh.My clouded reflection eyes melike a bird of prey, the profile of nightslanted against morning. I turnthis way—the stone lets me go.I turn that way—I'm insidethe Vietnam Veterans Memorialagain, depending on the lightto make a difference.I go down the 58,022 names,half-expecting to findmy own in letters like smoke.I touch the name Andrew Johnson;I see the booby trap's white flash.Names shimmer on a woman's blousebut when she walks awaythe names stay on the wall.Brushstrokes flash, a red bird'swings cutting across my stare.The sky. A plane in the sky.A white vet's image floatscloser to me, then his pale eyeslook through mine. I'm a window.He's lost his right arminside the stone. In the black mirrora woman’s trying to erase names:No, she's brushing a boy's hair.
********************************************
Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.
No comments:
Post a Comment