I know
I have every right
to take all the time I needto grieve.
The world is
a tragic place
where golden children
sometimes die
for no reason,
And every wretched,
unimaginable treason
has its own trump season.
Sure, I know,
its important to be sad
some,
but before I get too far down,
I have to count
the Things I love:
great love,
golden and tawny
in the sun
by the shimmering water.
Too-long drives
on autumn afternoons
to a good soundtrack
with a truck full of friends
ready for the next
adventure
or a desperate taco snack.
3AM and dancing
like a force of nature,
oblivious to anything
but
music.
I have to count
the things I love:
Hiking the back Forty
so far beyond
the voices of others
that I can hear the voices
of the Aspens and the Oaks
whispering in valleys
that have never known
crowds.
A Fifth of bourbon's
salt and malt
on my tongue
and bonfire smoke
on a night so dark
the Milky Way shines
like clotted cream
as my family weaves
tales and laughter.
Six mile loops
of forsaken freeways
flowing velvet
round the city
like a river through
a carnival of lights.
I have to count
the things I love:
Sailing Seven seas,
open ocean,
flying over
myriad blue waters.
Waking up slowly,
after Eight,
to sit on the patio
and breathe
in the steam
of fresh coffee
or
bergamot tea.
The Cloud Nine feeling
of A scouring hot shower
with citrus soap
after earnest yard work
in the humid summer.
I have to count
the things I love:
A kitten
Tenanted
beneath my chin
curled up
purring
rumble-bumble
against my chest.
The Eleventh hour
of writing well,
my fingers pattering,
keyboard glowing
like a magician's ball,
spells creating worlds
within
my head.
The impossibly pink,
gangling improbability,
of a Dozen
Roseate Spoonbills
flying the thin graceful glow
between sunset
and twilight.
I have to count
the things I love,
the Innumerable
things I love,
so
the things I loathe
can't win.
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| As a sunflower faces the sun, I count, the things I love so that I can hold the light. |
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