04 May 2021

May Day Gratitude

 

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 I take in the magnitude of the white pine in the yard.

Gratitude washes over me. I release words that tried

to be a poem on May Day Eve—too full of history,

worker's rights, and ritual.  I let go of words of

mere love I inserted while rereading on May Day. 


And I start over, letting go of all disappointed

productivity.  Instead, right here and now, I let go

like pine needles let go of dandelion spores, and let

today sway me. A gentle and glad wind rings these new words

from me, I a bell who comes alive in the breezes. 

 

Singing, I water cedar and hosta babies a friend

helped me to plant yesterday. We worked with concentration,

enjoyed digging holes, placing plants, piling in and patting

down new soil, bringing water to welcome them. Here’s the holy

day I tried to capture, the one I thought had escaped.

 

It didn’t escape. It waited for me, and curled up in

my lap when I wasn’t looking. Gratitude washes me.

I say to the seedling cedar, "Look how tall you will be

someday!  You are in good company."  Next there's a surge of

gratitude that we are alive on this holy May day.


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My blog poems are rough drafts.
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     © 2021 Susan L. Chast


1 comment:

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Such a beautiful poem - I know the satisfaction of patting plants into the earth. LOVE "I, a bell who comes alive in the breezes."