The ants I wish to banish from my house
are such encouragement of industry,
teamwork and perseverance.
Even as I mitigate, I bless.
The knee that wakens me in pain
is sore because it’s healing.
Hobbling, I praise the miracle.
Sometimes the trucks that run the rumble strip
on the Interstate play a note right in tune
with our wind chimes. I sing along.
Purple vetch grows in the ditch-sides,
the lot corners, the weed patches.
I take a mouthful of the little purple blossoms
with humble thanksgiving.
Look for it.
Grace is a small masterpiece of art
in a really big frame.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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