What feels better now?
The stretch of spine in a
container of stiffened disc and nerve?
The day’s arms so wide open, even
the seemingly unlovable feels welcomed
home, unjudged? A hug of spring brimming
with woodpeckers rat-a-tat-tatting
to a world still inordinately beautiful?
Can you hear its staunch echo across
the shy field? Stop a moment to take it in.
Put an ear close to morning, the leftover rain
that has turned itself into dew. Walk in it
barefoot, soaking hemline and skin
with this vast and critical prayer,
the murmur of what we still have in common—
those safe and unexpected pleasures
housed in the milk of the land, fed from
stems of universal understanding. Gratitude.
Gratitude. Dandelion song.
-Katherine Mercuio Gotthardt
Posted in Katherine's Coffeehouse
