On this day the sun stands still, I’m thankful for:
the people I love, who love me back, who offer and accept wild gifts.
the storyteller who can make a truth emerge from mundane narrative.
musicians listening, watching, pouring out a sound.
food plain and exotic, the many meals for a furnace.
earth to walk on, climb, swim, sleep on, be on.
the massive fallen pine, whose shallow roots lift into the air.
one boulder leaning on another, who make a cave with leaves protected from the drizzle.
water from a small pond, a brook with two foot banks and bed of sand and rocks.
the oak that reminds me it’s asleep.
three whitetail running, stopping, curious.
coyote who runs uphill as if his life depends on it.
five cords of wood, a gift from last month’s snowstorm.
two insects rising to the kitchen window light.
rain and thunder and lightning, into which the cat has gone to spend the night.
this air that has a full year’s scent.