Thank you for this wholly ordinary morning
and its quantum day-star world-round light.
Thank you for the blues of empty sky,
the gift of earthworms in their ether of loam,
and for dying that dissolves our bodies
into food the tiniest hungriest creatures eat.
Thank you for this ladybug whose
wings are woven of my father's dust.
And, yes, my mother's tears must be
by now the snow on a distant mountain.
Thank you for the eye between my ribs
that created the earth out of its seeing
just to see, and for the gift of gratitude,
and above all for saying, ‘You’re welcome.’