In this strange, disorienting,sometimes-hopeful
sometimes-fearful, sometimes-sad time, I can forget.
The gifts are here, as always. The Presence of God is here, as always.
To recognize them I need to notice, as always.
And so, once again, I open myself to...
The moss that brightens the otherwise
still-somber grey and brown trail.
The acres of skunk cabbage, whose
proliferation depends upon the what-can-seem
interminable grey days
that bring the early rains.
The pileated woodpecker that swooped
into the backyard this morning,
confirming who has been chiseling
out the old stump.
The tiny dwarf-ginseng carpeting
the neighbors woodlands,
a diminutive hardy species with
tiny white flowers,
I have never seen before.
The great-blue heron that flew
from the old backyard pond onto
the gazebo roof just outside our kitchen window,
and the two small goldfish that,
for the moment anyway,
survived its pursuit.
The clear, sweet song of the fox sparrow
who, until this morning, I thought belonged to an oriole.
The old apple tree that is about to
burst into bloom,
having stood sentinel for
decades, unmindful of human
concerns.
For all these,
for all I have missed
but have been present,
every day,
in every moment,
thank You.
