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My grandson asked me:
“What blessing would you seek
this morning?”
I was washing the dishes
of the previous night
without any wishes.
I sought, therefore, to continue as I was.
“Wash the dishes?” he laughed,
asked me to bend,
placed his hand on my head
and solemnly said, “So be it”.
What else could a man
nearing eighty want,
in his frail diabetic frame,
still able to move about
and watch beautiful sunsets?
Isn’t life great
with the hills outside
basking in ethereal sunshine?
Isn’t it a blessing
to listen to birds
singing melodious strains?
Stroke the plants and talk to them,
walk in rain, listen to streams,
all for free, look at the sky
leaning on a wayside tree,
knowing everything here
is a big ‘given’, well-provided,
when wants are short
and the ego is laid to rest.
And who then worries
about the last breath
when the corporeal mass
that heaves sans rest
is a boon ‘given’
that just comes by
without asking
on an unending sojourn? |
